As soon as it arrives,
it’s gone.
That’s the way of time
and moments of inspiration.
Things that transform us
are seldom indigenous
to our reality,
they reach out through the veil
to touch us, unexpected.
Far too often,
we reject the thought,
and carry on oblivious.
Some might even say
they are cursed with inspiration,
so many messages
from the other place,
it’s akin to being haunted.
I don’t know where I find it,
or where it comes from.
I try my best not to think,
my job is to write it.
There it is,
but now,
it’s gone.
So much for inspiration.
Now, it’s time to drag the waters,
blind
to snags and aberrations,
nevermind
that when you’re on the sea,
you risk bringing up monsters.
Anything,
to find a little piece
of that inspiration.
Suffer like an addict
with your pen,
as if it were a needle.
Here it comes,
and there it goes, again.
Such a cruel
and vicious cycle.
Why would anyone choose this?
HG – 2021
