What was is gone,
There's no more music on my tongue,
The fire that was there's gone out.

My pen's too full to lift,
There are only tears within,
And all the aged pages won't open.

There are only crude summations
Of disappointed expectations,
No curiosity left for questions.

Shards of the past blowing in the wind,
With fragments of an anthem
And long- forgotten hymns.

Insatiable fatigue,
Irrational though it seems,
Drowns all conscious thought in a sleeping sea.

What was is no more,
I've forgotten all the notes
On that far- away, hazy, unreachable shore.