I’m striving to write a poem, yet the words elude me, as if every letter has crumbled to dust within my mind. A spark of poetic fire ignites, but when I reach for even a single syllable to shatter the silence, each nascent line dissolves into emptiness. I battle on, though the will I once possessed has faded like a flame doused by relentless rain, leaving only wet coals behind. I wander into the void of night, my energy dissipating into shadows, each effort emerging as a desperate plea that the void mercilessly swallows. Still, I stand at the edge, peering into a vast sea of forgotten verses, watching the rhythmic ebb of lost words. I know that soon, I will gather the scattered strands of my thoughts and awaken the dormant creation within.