Creativity is like an ambrosia,
Which artists **** sweetly from the fingers of the muse.
A drop at a time is all we're given,
Because it is the most lethal of all drugs.

To be without it creates a void,
Somewhere--we're not sure exactly,
But we feel it.

There is a golden goblet within the mind of every creator,
And it sits waiting to be filled with creativity,
So we can once again pick up our brushes, our chisels,
Our pencils and pens,
And longingly wait for that sweet drop of ambrosia.