The Drought Poem by Robert Plese

When the drought in life fades into a dry arid desert.

Oh drought, give to me a thirst for production and not despair. A belief that some Phoenix might rise from the ashes of my uneasy mind and sublimate these energies for the good of those who will not accept that beast rattling his chains.

If I should but break this frame by which all others measure me, let it be gently so that they not fear what is seen. Though the waves from the deepest part of this world may seem turbulent to some, I am, I will, continue to be, meaningful in my actions and dreams.

I am a good person. I am a good person and not someone to be discarded by the hopes or fears of a decided many. What is based from my inward desire to be accepted into the tribe, is revealed in my outward desire to maintain the convincing allure of sanity, stability, and all the ity's that might offer THEM peace.

Oh drought, abandon me not in the pit of despair and wither my bones no more. This disease of self-observation and pity is quite a chore.