I have lost all inspiration.
Into the night it has fled.
Of love, I have no care to write.
Of darkness either.
There is just a void.
A gaping expanse of inability to express beauty.
An inability to even see it.
And why?
For I am surely as out of love as
I am out of darkness.
And I am surely as truly
blind to beauty as
I am blind to the flaws of myself.
So why? Really, oh why?
Maybe I have been careless, ungrateful.
Maybe I must chase it down.
Maybe.
Maybe it is gone forever.
But then,
so am I.