The Poetic Lull
Why such a dearth of emotional streams, that the veins now run dry from glistening dreams, There were times when the rivers advanced unstoppably, Like a flood of words torrenting cataclysmicly Is it what we call a temporal respite? Or perhaps it is a momentary blinding of a poet's foresight, a slumber from the burden of the worldly and the spectral, sending an odist, in a rejuvenating poetic lull......... ~S.S~