Inspiration

At first look, inspiration is an angelical giver
Of directions and guidance for the mislead.
What a thing it is, justifying the lives
Of those willing to travel the way it points.
An innovator. A prodigy.

Helping one walk the road of life
Taking it's unmatched power
So that the right way will gleam into your mind
Like a lighthouse to the stranded.
A dependence. A benefactor.

But to some people walking patiently on their own road
Which inspiration had once showed them onto,
Diligently walking over the bumps
Progressively walking up the steep hills
With their bare, aggrieving feet,
Realize from experience, inspiration's alternate form.

They are commanded to change on a road with no turns.
Inspiration, being the selfish, vile beast it is
Forces them on an impossible path
To walk on the rocky, jagged side of the road
And eventually so far away,
They will have no road to rely on.
A deceiver. A charlatan.

So that your medal of fulfillment
Will be hit by so strong a force
That it will engrave in your chest, and disintegrate.
And this medal you earned
With perseverance and determination
Will be a wound, and a harsh memory.
Inside of your bleeding chest.
An assassin; a demon.

2007 by Andrew Swain