A poem about the elusive nature of words and writters block, and how truely beautiful and magnificent words can be. Enjoy.
Who will be my muse?
I have once believed that love would hold true
Be my muse and bestow upon me an ever cascading waterfall of words
To write upon this blank sheet and forever trap vocabularies soul within these borders
The words however have a mind of their own and tend to run wild
They mock me with their subtle meanings and hidden agendas
I often find myself having to chase after them as if I were the hound, and they the fox
I once believed that love would be the pen needed to bind my words
Yet in the end it turns out love was not strong enough to secure these words
Oh no, these words resisted loves tender touch and have eluded me once again.
The prison of paper that I had tried to lock them away in was as it turns out insufficient
The ink runs like the black blood of my dreams
Streaking down towards the bottom of the page and my last hope
I attempt to catch them with trickery now, but realize that it is they who are the jester
They laugh at my futile attempts to snatch them from the vocabulary of my mind
And tumble, twirl and twist away from me yet again
What must I do to coax them to display their gift upon my page?
I sit and ponder this profound enigma
Sluggish and slow, flawed and fitful, dancing and dying
The cycle of my mind is never ending, as long as they elude me
A single overwhelming thought touches my mind,
Who am I to lock words down forever more, trapped upon a single sheet of parchment?
Are words not the freest of the free, gifted to anyone who dares reach out to them?
Words are not some beast that is to be locked away in a cage and gawked at,
No, words are life and life is words,
To be so gifted as to befriend these fell creatures, surely the Gods would be envious!
And yet I am no more then a beggar in the street with not but a pen and paper.
For what am I if I have no words?
Perhaps I am going about this all wrong
Instead of trying to catch these words, I will let them run free!
I will silently observe their beautiful dance and no longer try to enslave them
For words are not mine, nor are they yours,
They cannot be ripped from your mind with force, or coxed out with love.
And only if they so desire will they settle themselves amongst my page
Where they will forever more find themselves immortalized and worshiped
Until the sun dips beneath the sky and refuses to rise again
Until the stars fall from the Heavens and crash to earth,
These words will have a place amongst mankind.
And when the parchment is brown and brittle, and the words faded dull
I will still be more then glad
To count these words amongst my friends.