Caught In the Darkness,

The elusive mantra stumbles,

and in its moment of weakness
I make it my own.

I drink it's nourishment
and, for a moment, I am alive again.

Ah, but then, reality returns,

and conscious thought invades.
I return to doubt.

A body feeds on meat;

it builds its flesh up strong.

What nourishes my soul?

Words of love endear

where flesh is withered and gone

What nourishes my soul?


By David Normand
February 21, 2001,
Copyright 2001