Nothing came to claim my muse, instead I dreamed
Of freedoms neatly folded in a treasure chest lying in the debris
Of a crater; the best were simple choices, the rest forsaken
Promises bombed to shreds beside their makers.
All around the sound of raging thunder rumbled
In a night lit bright by streaks of blinding light
That tore the vision from my eyes beside the chest
Which huddled quiet in abject fright an orphaned child.
I held it in my arms and cried for lives forgone, the price
Of lovers rudely shorn from life, their children never born;
My muse had sought to soar alone and not be hobbled
In her freedom’s flight – she rued the thankless night.
At dawn I rose to skies worn grey with sullen clouds
And dismal chill, my will suborned. I tried to rationalise
Events and failed to find a common thread that lead me
To resist the test, reveal the contents of the chest.