A Creative Mind
And a dove arrived with grace,
serving as his messenger, its trace.
Who dispatched it on its flight,
no one knew, or took the right?
He teetered on the edge of despair,
Words forbidden, a load to bear.
Paper barred, a silent pen,
A storm brewed within him then.
Thoughts surged like a maddened tide,
No one to speak with, none to confide.
No one to read, to share his woes,
Sadness in his heart arose.
Lips stitched tight, a desert-dry mouth,
Eyes sealed shut in a shadowy drouth.
A wish for life began to fade,
In the darkness, his essence swayed.
One cold morning, through prison bars,
A dove alighted, soothing as stars.
Not a rat’s scrape, nor a footfall’s sound,
Just a silence in its profound.
He sensed a scream in void’s domain,
Struggling to pry his eyes from chain.
A bird gazed back, eyes so wise,
A silent connection, no disguise.
Stillness held him, fingers numb,
He dared not move, not a crumb.
To not startle the fragile life,
In this pit of solitude and strife.
He dared not think, lest the bird take flight,
Lest his silent companion vanish from sight.
The newcomer knew he was in command,
The master of this desolate land.
He descended, exploring the room,
Keeping a gaze, avoiding gloom.
A lone figure, in cold repose,
Frozen life that scarcely throes.
Days passed, the bird remained,
Crumb by crumb, friendship gained.
An odd kinship they slowly wove,
In this realm, their solace trove.
Until the moment he espied,
A band encircling his feathered guide.
A messenger in former days,
Could he convey his words through the maze?
He scrounged for paper, charcoal, and pen,
Writing his anguish, time and again.
Passion surged through every line,
Injustice, yearning, a plea divine.
Morning came, the bird appeared,
Hollow band, a message feared.
Lost, misplaced, or swiftly flown?
His hopes trembled, stood alone.
The void can be full, emptiness immense,
Yet undeterred, he’d recompense.
Weeks, months, a year’s embrace,
He wrote on, his thoughts unchase.
Then one day, unanticipated,
The friend returned, message liberated.
“Today, freedom’s grace is nigh,
Your sentence ends, no need to sigh.”
Guards arrived, the warden near,
His sentence cut, freedom clear.
For good behavior, studies wise,
He’d earned release beneath the skies.
In plain clothes, he stepped outside,
To a world from which he couldn’t hide.
A nearby attic, a gathering place,
A congregation of the feathered race.
He paused, intrigued, at a small park’s sight,
An elderly woman, birds in flight.
A dove, set apart, bridging the space,
Descending to rest with tranquil grace.
Her gaze locked on his, an exchange so pure,
A fusion of love and awe to endure.
A beckoning gesture, she vanished inside,
Her presence in his heart did reside.
A firm hand landed on his shoulder’s crest,
A man from within, in his best.
Polished shoes, pants of blue,
In his eyes, an intent hue.
“Son, move forward, walk your way,
Here no longer should you stay.”
With words that carried truth’s weight,
He set forth, leaving past’s gate.
