the muse
the fear of failure
holds steady in my hand
chasing the muse
a fingertip within reach
begging to return
will it ever crash back
like waves
overflowing and empowering
the words streaming,
weaving, forming
to feel that energy once more
that perfect balance
of hand and heart
sweet, sweet ecstasy
please, come back to me
Join the community today ↓ to get blogs, news, and announcements delivered right to your inbox!I found this poem in an old journal dated April 29, 2014. Nearly ten years ago. I remember writing this when I was having a particularly hard time finding my muse.
Writers, and creative people in general, always hope inspiration strikes when we want it, but that’s never the case. And this poem came as a result of not having written for a while. I was feeling as though I’d never write something profound again.
Have you ever felt that nagging sense of, “Why bother?”
If this post resonated with you in any way, please consider buying me a coffee. A little caffeine goes a long way for a writer, and I will be forever grateful for the fuel. ☕️