Image Source: Pixabay

Bright sparks of thought
Electricity vibrating my soul
The words, they come, they spill
Soaking wet words on dry pages

A pause that stretches
Thoughts that scatter like startled birds
Inspiration fled, soaring out of mind, out of reach
Parched dry words in tear-stained lines

Frantic, I scan frantically
Searching, aching for one more glimpse of Her
My Passion, My Divine, My Muse
That the fount of expression again flows red

By the shelves I glimpse her
Lingering gently among books inspired
I reach, I grasp, I finally seize
She gazes upon me plaintively

One last spark, understanding at last
My mistake to think that I can take
I relax, I release, I finally depart
My Muse unable to be forced

Despondant, I turn away
When I feel the air stir behind me
She leaps, She spins, She dances
Muse, now free to Inspire

Charles writes on art, history, politics, travel, fantasy, science fiction, poetry. BA, MA in Political Science, Phd Pending. Inquires: charlesbeuck@gmail.com

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