Many days without a muse.
Whatever shall I do?
Too long away from poetry
and sans a point of view

The moon has been so beautiful.
But words just would not come.
The sunrise has been glorious
the sunsets strike me numb.

Romance is in the air tonight.
Perhaps a muse will see...
And strike a chord that gives
a voice to verses now in me.

I close my eyes and see much more
than sight can ever see.
Colors swirl behind my lids
and rainbows, vividly.

Butterflies and hummingbirds
a ship of clouds glides by
Howling wolves in the wilderness
a pink and azure sky

And so, I find I need no sight
to find my inspiration.
The mind is far more "visual"
and gives its own sensation.

Speak your words
Speak them loud

write them down strong

scatter your thoughts on the page

write till your fingers are numb

drain your heart of the blood
so filled with pain

unlock the chains
on your soul

take an axe to the tree
that's diseased inside

giving only
fruit that's no good

its roots won't hold
its limbs will split
in the very least wind
rising up

finding its grim branches
comfortless

even birds
have flown
taking with them their song

let it fall
let it compost
create fertile loam

say goodbye

cry
as you must
water this place

this place
that you've cleared

scatter fresh seeds
allow them to sprout
unspoiled green

then
let your light shine
on
new growth

There was no such thing
Of a chance of surviving
The world's blazing hope