There isn’t much thought
That’s going through my head
My creativity has come to naught
My imagination presumed dead.

And although I’ve stopped,
Stared, contemplated
It seems my artistry has been topped
By logic instead, my mind aggravated

A conflict of interest, my brain speaks-
Too loud-
That my writing mind has finally peaked
And plummeted past its foggy clouds.

“Confusion,” it claims,
“Is simply a myth
An emotion, a delusion”
As it pulls me from its cragged cliff

For my mind, my imagination, the thing that I believe
Has gotten up and left me,
Running, sprinting, in too much a hurry to leave
A wild desperate sort of flee...

...Leaving behind, a new, strange soul
Wrought with nothing more than writer’s block
And although my new mind yearns for the old
It cannot fight against life’s hasty clock.

For imagination has gone on its way,
And taking with it, creativity
Leaving logic here to stay
A new realm of perceptivity!

But blessed am I, too quick to learn
Of the Clock’s own fatal flaw
That continues to let this fleeing fire burn
As it cannot take from me my all.

So dear reader, I must apologise
For the lack of topic and voice known
But this piece, I beg, do not antagonize
For only a moment, the length, unknown.

Imagination shall return, one day, I’m sure,
Arriving quickly when I need it least.
But until then I am forced to endure
Without its wildness released.

Like Romeo and Juliet, together in spirit
But forever apart
My creativity, I want not to prohibit
As it is a part of my weary heart.

Like Odysseus and Penelope, a distance between them
I wait patiently for imagination’s grand re-entrance.
Our very cores in sync, metaphorical beating drums
As I desire to be put back in that fictional trance.

Dear reader, excuse me
As my whining of loss must be sufferable
But I’m grieving, don’t you see?
For without imagination I am vulnerable!

So I call out to you, dear reader, I plead
That you heed my words and listen clearly
If mind and soul do argue freely
Let them - but keep both! As they are needed by all dearly.

Teach your logic to open its eyes
Teach your heart to find material meaning
For all need this balance, not just those who see past reality’s guise
Or you will end up like me, my creative wounds gleaming...

...With the remaining drops of unique vision, so precious
Avoid taking the chance to see the world anew for granted
For your imagination shall always be restless
Treasure your moments with it dearly, for within you, creativity has landed.