Where has the fire gone?
Extinguished by exhalations of exhaustion.
Cut down like grass on a lawn
Is a once lush poet-tree of creativity.

Did I heed the signs of caution?

Drowned by disappointment and shame,
I emerged alive, I survived,
But my hopes could not say the same.
They settled with the sediment,

Oh, how I miss when they thrived!

When did it occur,
The moment my heart was drained?
And who was the one to procure
The passion with which I was fashioned?

From stained glass to broken glass, stained.

The inventive ambition has waned,
The glowing spectrum has faded.
I pray all will be reattained.
For I am overworn and forlorn;

Once sculpting precious gems, now just simply jaded.