A year ago, I resolved to write, Everyday, no matter what. Noble in my intention, to let These words Blossom But impractical in my imprisonment
Papers and parchment became walls Which grew hungry and full off anxiety True to the nature of my failure I felt every bit of imagination die The magic engine chocked out, rusted With failed expectations.
However, this creative vigor, this Impossibly strong passion, sparked Life once again, as it tends to do.
So I resolve once again, to write But only as the wind blows
As the extraordinary rushes, So will I, to the pages.