Mind numbing silence, attacks again.

Maybe I should just lose the pen.

zzz
Hush sweet poet, for you are now mine.

Cease now with your words, and drop quickly your pen.

I command you, add not another line.

For verse has left you again,

 and this time it shall never return.

So do as I say and weep not,

for your muse has left you and is dead.

Oh but you say, why must I intrude,

Why must I interfere?

Why be so rude?

You know and I know that I am every poet’s dread,

and how dare you say, yet even ask,

what is my name?

You and others like you know it well.

It is sad but oh so true ,

and with dreamers it's always the same.

Oh yes..My name,

I am known as the reality of life.

Reality oh reality I cried,

I shall never hearken to what you say.

I shall never surrender, nor believe your lies.

I will strike my prose again,

and wield yet a mightier pen,

so beware for there is a light at the end

and it spins in words of old,

 From my muse’s golden hair.

                        J. Allen Wilson © 2003