UN PLUGGED

Words once flowed like a waterfall, 
My pen runs dry before capturing it all.
Now, reaching for thoughts 
That has slipped through my hand,
Like grains of sand in a vast desert land.

In the quiet hum of a fleeting thought,  
My mind went blank, a battle fought.  
Like a painter bereft of his vibrant hue,  
An empty canvas, a sky of blue.

Not a riddle or rhyme from which to choose 
In my mind, the battle continues, but in the end, I lose.
The echoes linger, whispers in space,  
Ideas dance yet leave no trace.  

A fleeting spark, a fire ignites,  
Then fade away in the shadow of night.
I sit and stare like one in a trance 
Anxiously waiting for a change of circumstances.

Oh, the labyrinth where ponderings dwell,  
A tapestry woven, a story to tell.  
Yet here I stand with a blank slate,  
A poet rendered by the subtle weight.

Wilford Barker.