Stifling sentences from mind to pen to paper
Blundering from word to word
Forcing friend and foe to collaborate to hold together,
hand in hand a story to be told
But sometimes that art, those wells, grow old
So I dig and I dig for a fountain to come forth
And with it the words with which to refresh both mind and soul
A laborious task, too large to ask
Of one who isn't entirely mad
But no need for worry because I am that
I'll find the fountain of words.
Elusive, exclusive, entirely too much
A passionate flow, a particular touch
Extensively existing in the minds of those persisting
To indulge in the sweet words that flow from mind to pen to paper
To taste and sample the selected assortment
Fastidiously arranged as if awaiting atonement
Expressions from the fountain I've found it.