A poem written by Patrick Connors
I remember summer there was a vibrance of a tempest light.
Truth seemed sure, ignorance locked away, sanity was right.
Now I am in winter Lost in its storms.
Seeing not through its cloudy gale.
As I scrimmaged in tears I hear no wisdom as it would hale.
The beliefs in mine heart are cast astray and misleading.
My mind tearing my heart receding.
Here I go reasoning and questioning, searching for an answer and finding none.
Perhaps there is no answer, there for no answer will be won.
The wisdom of the ethereal potentate is the only escape.
Donning now the concupiscence of proliferation of insight.
© 2016 Mental Health Association of Northwestern PA