The very thing, that kept me humble,
Kept me pure.
Fell divided and distant, faded and obscure.
Could I draw you to the surface, if I dwell or turn silent?
Has the depth I once tasted, become dishonest and blatant?
Should I let it go, or chase it?
What was once words of insight, wisdom and motivation,
Faded between the lines, on a empty paper.
My inspiration, left me wandering,
Stood still, in time, while life felt jaded.
Where insecurity scrolled, looking for comfort,
Mystery and passion was a halo of hope,
Dreaming was the ink,
Fed into the quill of reality.
I let go.
Just words now, I’ll always own.