For many days, my pen lay still,
Broken of hope, broken of will,
The ink ran dry, the page lay bare,
As blank as my reflection’s stare.
In the dark, they started to perish,
My art that I had so long cherished,
But as I lay there in the void,
I slowly returned what had been destroyed.
© Jade M. Wong 2016
July 18th’s Word: paraluman (n.) A muse that inspires artistically