City of Legends

Good sign.  This morning I was brutally wrenched awake by a poem, bubbling to the surface much as magma would, if it spurted from a crack in my skull.  Ouch.  At least it was just my skull.

But I fumbled my way to the desk, grabbed paper and pen and scribbled out what I could.  Here ’tis: 

let’s rise, rise above the madness
and find our binding to the tempered sadness.
it’s just confusion, illusion when we have had less
than we desire
our passions’ fire
to catch and burn at levels shining
with the epic needs God was designing
when we turned a blind, bland eye to a colourless living
in pale surrender
we are a pretender
when we accept less than the light
when we retreat from the earnest fight
when we forget that love is a divine right
for what we need
for what we really bleed.

William F. DeVault.  all rights reserved.

Yes, but what dies it all mean?  I recognize a few of the more subtle references…but I think overall it is to be taken at face value.  That mediocrity and a "grey life" are offensive.