Tuesday, July 14, 2015

curing the blind

an empty canvas it is,
the one I loved it indeed is

I stare at the white screen
that makes me wanna scream

finally I let loose my stream of words,
and that brings in a flock of birds

but in place of the usual dribble
I feel a sense of trouble

a new fear is here
and it seems to be not from near

as the words keep appearing
I find the trouble disappearing

I won this time
but will it stand the test of time

the doubt is here to stay I fear
but I love the end to be near

like a crown made of thick lead,
it sits on my head

drying up my trickling stream of words,
and driving off the flocking birds

the drought has been long
and I feel I do not belong

o mother of creativity
i beg thy for the clarity

for this son has sinned
and for it he has been pinned

unlock thy kindness
so he can cure his blindness

and open his wretched heart
so he can do his part

--- OR --

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