When Genius Recedes

When dark clouds circle the ever changing mind

and the fog begins to set deep and thick,

unyielding-

things begin to fade.

Bright memories of sunshine cruelly turn to ashes

and the hope that held on is still,

unmoving-

as if life has been laid.

Where is the symphonic orchestra that brought forth song,

with instruments and gong and aplomb?

Where is the glimmering sense of chance,

of moments yet to be,

of standing ovations and congratulatory speeches,

with seconds entrenched in time,

dripping with vigour?

Is it all gone?

Never to return?

What of this poor mind

that was once considered great?

Receding so slowly it alerted not the soul.

Now but a shell remains.