You, who brought me far from dreaming
That words can be life
And characters can be real
In a page, in a reel --
Free me from the giant shadows,
the engulfing darkness of fear.
I have let other men
to be this pen's muse
I saw it all coming
but then I did not refuse
to be enchanted, lured
by their stolen kisses
as bitter as shallow promises.
Can you please stop the darkness
approaching, roaring, threatening
the stillness that I have fought for,
nursed, kept, hold on to?
Behind the clasped door
Where I have kept it
I know, very soon,
You will meet me there, too.
This pen's ink grow fainter and fainter
Yet the words in my mind won't be weaker
They are fastened too tight to my soul
All I need is your hands to bring them
behind that door.
I have kept the words but my characters
are lifeless -- kiss them now, so they
can breathe like me.
If writing is giving and loving
Then I cannot do it alone
Hear my cry and be with me,
Hold my hand and teach me!
I am your little child
who grips her pencil and
do the strokes now,
slowly but not aimlessly
unlike I did before....
So wrap your right hand
around my right hand...
Teach me how to scribble
the first line of your poetry,
the twists and turns
of the plots of your story
until we both reach
what I kept for so long
behind that door --
that unshakable hope
that divine power
that big, bold love.
Swing the door wide open
And lead me to come out
You are my muse now
So why would I doubt?
We are both holding on
to hope, power and love,
Darkness can't engulf me now.
