A Barren Mind

words fail to conceive in an eager, eager heart a twisted labyrinth of puzzled paths never the twain to gainfully meet beginning or end never to gleefully greet a writer's most dreaded curse he sits and fretfully fears the worst in mind's eye he is to fail finding no truths to prevail no promise of fantsy to mend no mindful, new words does he find to blend just a stark, blank, empty page the cast all gone, a deserted stage there is but one who remains he who holds the pen in vain morning has come, dawn has crept in and not one word was spoken to him