My hopes flew quickly to bright flowers
strong and sweet
they gazed for hours
But now that strength has waned

My joy in flurried work
though first relieved in stress less space
soon borderlined on Shirk

This depressed state
is common now
when we mix our ink with paper
we sit in pools of swirling grey
and lose our whirlwind shaper

our hearts have fallen
through the rainbow air
and droop on dreary sills
our eyes are sick and only stare
at mirrors showing ills

Our psyches oh so wonderful
do quite forget their power
and don't remember
the angeled bower
on which they did alight

When winged insects
leave the sky
when butterflies do land
they do not ask their maker why
but trust this rest upon his hand

They eat and drink
they sleep and wait
They wait for Gentle eye to wink
And when they fly
don't wonder why
or call their leave too late