I feel as though all my words
have been drained from my spirit.
Like a vacuum cleaner ******* up dust
from a living room carpet.

I stare at the blank page in agony.
But nothing comes.
The maestro has no music.
The artist has no paint.

There is so much I long to share with the world
but for now my body seems content
to keep it all inside.

So I will step away from the desk
and disappear for now.
In hopes my pen will return someday.