The spires of inspiration
peek like lovely mountains,
then tumble leaving gaps in between
of days, weeks, months and sometime years
before the next peak appears.
In between we feel
hung in a balance
until the next spire
takes us up away into the clouds
to restore more inspirited writing.
Any loneliness in between inspirations
are soon lost in the new work
that satisfies our being
and revives us again
with untold energy.
13 May 2016
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem