Through passion I live,
through stagnation I die,
through diligence I am reborn.

Over all things my word is my blood.
It lives as I live slipping through
my veins and into my heart.

I put pen to paper and vanquish my
demons. When the words stop
flowing, I can’t get going.
I fall into dreamless slumber.

Within silence lies my fallen comrades.
Murdered by delerium and conceit.
They dwell in the realm between shadows
drowning in thick, palpable darkness.

I must be lucky to have not perished
under the weight of my predecessors
for the road is long and weary.

But when the oceans of my soul
get to stirring, the tempest roams
searching for dreamy outlet in starless
skies of ruby and amber. I concede.
My blood has won.