Mind Games

My mind used to be fertile

Bubbling with ideas

Rather like a witch's cauldron

With my pen I would create

Sparks would fly, explosions would occur

And I would give birth to new worlds

Which would be like Paradise

Then one day I picked up my pen

And though the refill had miles of ink in it

And my notebook plenty of pages

No ideas were coming

They were all gone

Faded away into nothingness

As if swept away by a storm

Since that day forth, I cannot write

Ideas commit suicide rather than come into my mind

I do not know why I have been thus silenced

Or why there is a gag around my mind

But I sincerely hope that one day

My mind will become receptive again

And the silence will be broken

The Bilge Master