Corycian Promise
Wee hours,
with the sane asleep,
this writer’s steeped
in conflicted inspiration.
My thoughts are vague,
I’m filled with doubt,
words tossed about
the unyielding empty page.
I start, then stop,
I write, then not,
unclear, I’m caught
in merciless hesitation.
Fickle muse, please —
a promise of spark
to light this dark
that grips me like a cage.
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2007