Here i sit with pen in hand, yet with no ink to print my brand.
I pace my mind for a thought to feed, an emotion to feel,
or breath to breathe.
Anything to make a spark, a drop of blood to entice my shark.
To long have i shut it away, ignoring the price that i must pay.
For now i fear my gift was squandered, it left my mind and began to wonder.
Where did it go? i often wonder, perhaps it saw the world and took its plunder.
Maybe it gave some comfort to a child, letting them hear words play in the wild.
Or maybe it did not leave, it sat in my mind and waited to breathe.
A spot of light that was in my dreams, twisting my whispers to silence my screams.
Until the day i sat and waited, spinning my pen while my dreams awaken.
And there it is i say at last, my fountain of words made of glass.
Distorting my thoughts into simple rhymes, as it will until i die.
Now all i need to find, is a piece of parchment to print my mind
Or i can do as i always do, and use Tumblr to record a thought or two
