Edgar Allen? Noo. Poem by Vincent Havik73

Once upon a midnight weary, while I wondered, sought and queried.
Over many a pile of crumpled and discarded note.
While I prodded, nearly cracking, at the material I was lacking,
Of the things my mind was racking.
Of the lost memories that I'd wrote.
Tis' some mental block, impeding my mental chore.
Blankness, and nothing more.
Ah yes, I would enter.
Each sentence I would render.
And each sentence ender, wrought itself upon the floor.
Weakly I cast my thoughts.
Insanely, and vainly I sought, from my vastless vault of memories of yore.
For the rare and meaningless memories of before.
Still thoughtless and nothing more.
As my thought process progressed.
Each memory processed, began to thrill me, fill me with memories of before.
So to the infiltratings of my mind, I sat investigating in time.
Tis' some visitating visages of past words.
Then blankness and nothing more...