Hope

Another blank page stares at me

Waiting

It is waiting to be stained with words

Written in digital ink

I wonder if I will tell a story this time

My first ballad maybe?

I do not feel like writing

But nevertheless the idea

The idea won't be denied

Therefore

I am writing of the present

As the clock ticks on

And rain lashes the windowpanes

I wipe sweat from my brow

And try to differentiate a function

With music, my ally and dear friend

And darkness, my old one

As witnesses

While all around me the silent house

Slumbers in peace

It is now 5 AM

And we are on our way into the light

I close the books and try to sleep

In the growing light that fills me with hope

The Bilge Master