Idle Musings

My muse is dead, muse is gone

The pen lays silent; its ink dried on.

For inspiration has no price

Yet I cannot afford,

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The strength of will,

The power of mind,

To write a single word.

Her wings be cut, her voice be silent,

Tears are all she gave.

My muse is dead, my muse is gone

If only I’d pressed save.

To stare forever at an empty page

Writer’s block in writer’s hand

To look upon a pristine canvas

And wish ‘twere not so bland

Mayhaps inspiration is like lightning

Energy pure and true

And yet if it be lightning

One strike will never do

All alone, empty headed, deadlines stared down dead time.

And yet when the mood takes me

My muse is once more mine.