Back on Track

It feels like so many months had passed, but in truth, it's only April. To me, things feel slow -- unproductive and in no way progressing towards what I want. Nevertheless, I'm slowly getting back on track. I'm back to writing; I have a couple of unfinished stories that need to be revised and continued. A friend is helping me out and despite the difficulties, it's amazing how we're continuing the plot without really knowing what goes into the other's mind. I genuinely think that our story is going towards something quite intriguing.
     Poetry-wise, I've written something two days ago... I can't even recall the last time I got inspired for a poem, but this time was different -- just an email from a dear person managed to get me back to where I was; to who I am. Yet again, I can't shake the feeling of a powerful entity pulling me into the depths of that cursed hole again. Depression doesn't seem like it'll pass easily, not after all that had happened.
     However, to you, who saved the last bit of me, I will make you proud again, and to all those who still believe in my words; I will be forever in your debt. Thank you.

In the Process

Prying on the lives of others,

Desperately looking for a rhythm.

Oh, how long has it been now,

Since I’ve sat down and written?

A mentor suggests me some forms,

While an editor awaits my lore.

But what do I do in the process?

I stress upon a man of progress —

Calling my best piece a fluke,

As words fail before my standards.

Yet do I dare acknowledge my losses;

Standing still, waiting for a verdict?

Aye, if I can be comforted by the dead —

Hemingway, Fitzgerald, and the Romantics.

Different writers and different times,

But similarly providing words that survived.

This work, too, is a road to comfort,

For I write, not for fame, but insight.

Then in time, abstract will transform,

A concrete well of ideas it will forge.