Poetry from the Borderlands

I am not a lunatic but madness might be a factor.
Do we wait for a savior, or bring one into existence?

Music resonates in consonance with the creator’s voice.
What isn’t transformed by fire is eaten by envy.

Many Boomers couldn’t get enough of the world;
everything opened, everything poured in, then too much.

One day, several years ago, I realized everything had changed.
Inner voices were unhinged by my confusion. Ageing does that.

Innocence has become more important as I have gotten older.
And I have wondered if idealism is another form of innocence.

Little by little, while on the road, a new voice
emerged that I came to recognize as my own;

the extraneous bits of life fell away.
There is no language for that,

only the surge of the soul
and the swelling of the heart.

~Marc A. Crowley