(writers block)

A cord to your soul
Stretches as far as the ocean.
Life is for taking.
Crumpled notes lay heavily with fury.
Your virtuoso of deceit. 

Verve on the edge of the earth,
Where pen and paper
Amalgamate with thundering clouds,
With veneration for art. 

From mother Earth’s arms you
Spellbind, sprout
To break loose.
Melody
Lays resting.
Cradles the body
With pureness. 

Guitar strings - a fingerprint on damp wood.
Something to be worshiped, somewhere
Along the crumpled notes awaits a muse. 

Fatigued, a tongue that speaks of many seasons --Capitulated,Fails to bloom.