Once again, the lamp that slept has now been lit
To search the plume I had lost back in the past
So I could spell the rhymes I know that would fit
The will of my Muse, whose words in me are cast.
I had lain too long, but the times do not wait
I had not been true in whatever writing
Still wisdom tried to convince before it's late
For me to believe some things are worth doing.
There were times I wonder and try to question
Why does not my Muse make all stanzas inspired?
The problem was my conflict with his reason
When I inscribe what I foolishly desired.
Every poet is fashioned for a laurel
Like the fact that people are here for a role.
And I cannot fight it, though I could not tell
For Destiny has written its plan in whole.
I am an artist who needs to see and hear
I am a man who must be taught to follow.
It's the only way my Muse may let appear
The next chapters that wait for me tomorrow.
And I should not write on my own anymore
Lest my words be spilled again in a dark room.
I cannot lose my Muse as I had before,
He’s the Versemaker that sets my words abloom.
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Copyright © 2011 by Prince Obed de la Cruz
(December 22,2011; Marikina City)
(This poem is written by PRINCE OBED de la CRUZ. To use it in a proper manner, please email him at princeobed_dc@yahoo.com with the subject “PERMISSION TO USE”)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem