The Inkwell

The Inkwell

Once the inkwell had dried

I no longer saw the me in my eyes.

Nothing but scribbles upon gray irises-

landscapes stifled by bills and my own devices.

Deep Within the hearts hearth,

I beckon the flame to go back to work.

My soul longs for an overwhelming conflagration-

Freedom from mirages

And the endless stagnation!

The fuel awaits a dormant match.

I just need one opportunity,

one dream to catch.

Until then, I live content,

Because time lived now,

Is still time well spent.