Hidden Spark

It has been over two years since I've published a poem here on The Poet's Fire.  This came to me yesterday, a poem about inspiration:

The Hidden Spark

It begins with stellar pain:

An explosion of flame.

Fire erupts,

Casting light, a burning light, a searing light

In every direction.

Dancing away from the cradle,

Wondering why space isn’t white

From so much rushing light.

It never ends, the mental pain:

Wait, try, struggle, cry.

A circle of doubt,

Leave the stove on? Pay the bill? Do they know?

Am I happy?

Stumbling away from the cradle

Wondering if life ever eases

In a sea of confusion.

Dawn breaks, masking the hidden spark

It waits behind the brazen sun,

A blanket of gold and blue,

Hides its ancient idea,

That tiny dancing flame.

You gaze up at the empty sky

An empty shell yourself

Sun draws away; the waiting star falls

Tumbling from heaven.

Down it dashes, jumping in your eye

Catching hold of the doubt

Burning it away

An idea.