I'm In This Game For The Long Haul

I'm always busy writing to create Some kind of art. Certain things I inflate; That others refer to as voice & style. I have walked ten thousand poetic miles, Yet I still feel as though I'm just starting To get a feel of things. My words should sing Rather than sound like discordant shrieks. Like in sports, I'm trying to reach my peak. Yet it's so hard to balance light and shade. The old masters knew how to blend the grave And the joyous. I've still got time to learn. While the inner flame continues to burn, I'll defy the boredom of daily life. I shall transcend this wanton world of strife. Although it's getting darker in the West, The prophets can see beyond the unrest. They have heard bleak winter's frozen warnings. But they have glimpsed the warm coming of spring. Although there are many who value nothing, And who know the market worth of everything; So dazzled are they by cut price souvenirs, There are still sacred realms that are revered. I'd like to document the mood of the times; Whilst hinting at signs that point to the sublime. I'll attempt to forge beauty from doubt and pain. I'll call on the gods for healing summer rain.