Internal Landscape. Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

The game's a blur, you don't know why,
Just move the pieces, 'til you die.
No joy, no spark, just going through,
The motions, tired, and feeling blue.

You try to please, to do what's right,
But find no welcome in their sight.
A heavy heart, a weary soul,
Beyond your reach, beyond control.

The game feels lost, the rules unseen,
A joyless path, a weary scene.
No happiness, no peace inside,
Just echoes where contentment hide.

You tried so hard, to do things right,
To stand in love's accepting light.
But shadows linger, cold and deep,
A love withheld, you cannot keep.

Each fall, a weight upon your chest,
A heavy burden, hard to rest.
The body aches, a silent plea,
'Enough, enough, release me free.'

The setbacks mount, a climbing wall,
Hope keeps on fade, about to fall.
The energy is gone, the spirit low,
Where do you turn? Where do you go?

Each little hope, a broken thread,
Setbacks pile up inside your head.
This weight you feel, down to the bone,
A silent scream, you're all alone.

The body aches, a constant sign,
Of burdens carried, line by line.
So hard to smile, so hard to strive,
When hope's a ghost, and you're barely alive.

T.M.Solvang