There is no order

There is no order

To this chaos

Broken promises litter the floor

Scattered among the debris

The remains of old stories

Torn sheets, crumpled paper

An old dartboard

A fountain pen with a bent nib

Newspaper parcels

Piled high

Alleyways walked in single file

A coffee pot precariously balanced

An old greybeard

A stranger to himself

Last seen ruminating over a blank page

There was always something written

In the margin

But the fine print eluded him

His glasses lost

And never found.

Once upon a time,

There was magic

Before darkness came

Obscuring all that lay before him

When there was a reason

And meaning to his calling

Before the crime of grime

When he believed

That there was more to uncover

Than the blot on his copybook

The loss of a muse

He was never the god

He wrote himself to be

Risen from the ashes of a past life

Undrowned

Washed up from the bottom

Of a restless sea

Flying with angels

Dancing with Daisies.

When he moved he rattled,

There was no music to it.

His bones grind in time to his breathing

There once was a good man

He might still be there,

In hiding

Lord knows he would be difficult to find

Beneath the detritus

Of a mythic life

Lost to him now

If only he could find his way clear

To let it go

He might yet be free.