Poem: Resolution

A follow-up to yesterday's poem. Enjoy. :-)

Each day is new, but my dejection’s pull

Maintains a stony grip, I know not how.

Each day my senses grow more blunt and dull,

And each day I am forced to humbly bow

Before an altar of lewd conjurings,

Passions and thoughts that I would not permit

In any other case; each mornings brings

Unholy cravings, which alone are fit

To run like maddened animals through a field

Of fog and failure. Thus, dejection seeps

Each hour and day through where my heart is sealed,

And rots away that which my spirit keeps

Pure and above all stain. Yet here’s some hope:

I wonder in my sadness, though I’m shut

Away like hunchbacks or like maddened wives,

Will writing poems help? Perhaps they’ll cut

Away the rotted vines and Gordian rope

That seal my spirits. Maybe other lives

Can be released from this same circumstance

Should I release these poems, and by chance

They read them. There’s a thought that could dispel

Shades from my spirit, now and yet to be.

Ergo, if stanzas like these can impel

Spirits to shake off their dejection, so

It shall be my intent and purpose. Know

That poems can soothe, advise, and set one free.