My pen is dead and dry
But, my ink is wet and my hand sits still
I will my heart and my mind to one last time try
But, my pen lies before me quiet, still and won’t my touch feel.
My head is empty, yet filled
With thoughts and apparitions which runs my mind wild
My eyes are wet and my lips unfurled
For hidden in the depths are words full and wide.
I look painfully at the stars and the moon
My mind a hopeless blank of white
My hand twitch like it will rise soon
To scribble all the hidden secrets which pours forth at night.
But Alas! It won’t come.
Don’t give up just yet . It might come when you lest expect it to.