Myriad times i picked up the pen, in my defense
But damned if i knew what to write
Lost in a humdrum sisyphean existence
My mind had forgotten its ability to take flight.
Where words used to sing and dance
In a resonant, sonorous symphony
Now all is quiet in an unforeseen circumstance
Except at night, when pandemonium breaks free.
I cleave the weedy walls of inhibitions everywhere
Sometimes i bleed, but i ignore the pain
Reaching out to the muses, with utmost care
I endeavor to write, but all in vain.
At last I descry a luminous, elusive wisp
And as I take solace in its familiar glow and shine
Hope stirs a zephyr, light and crisp
Atleast for tonight inspiration will be mine.