Hopeful Pen

How far can I stretch my pen I don’t know yet

What if the ink refuses to flow even if the inkpot is full

The images that will fail to appear to this gloomy world

Even the Moons and stars would play hide n seek too often

If the canopy of delusions wrap the emotions for too long

Would they be able to breathe?

When the world is invisible and this crowded place becomes home

Splendid mornings won’t come calling again

To inspire the poet to speak of the darkness in a creative way

For all that the journey promises

How far the dreams may be pushed back, they find a place in the compositions

Distinct or blurry, the instinct to write keeps the breath of life

Alive and hopeful of the next inspiration

Hope, the pen does not wobble at the crucial juncture of indifference


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