My inspiration is a sneaky thing
Like a burglar on tiptoe
Silently it comes slipping into my mind.
If I do not detain it promptly
It slips back into the void of consciousness
Leaving me with only that feeling
Of familiar vagueness
Of knowing that something was here
What it was I cannot fully grasp
Yet it gnaws and scratches
Driving me insane with regret
And a terrible longing
For a light forever lost to the darkness.

Image: B&W Soulvision

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