Corycian Promise

Wee hours,
with the sane asleep,
this writer’s steeped
in conflicted inspiration.

My thoughts are vague,
I’m filled with doubt,
words tossed about
the unyielding empty page.

I start, then stop,
I write, then not,
unclear, I’m caught
in merciless hesitation.

Fickle muse, please —
a promise of spark
to light this dark
that grips me like a cage.

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2007