Lost Thoughts

I hunger for ancient fire
Breathéd into poet's thought,
Exhaled prose, transformed by writer
Disappears when sought.

A despèrate plea, mumbled to a muse,
"Inspire me," hopeless, spoken to the air.
The air responds, I inhale forgetting
To exhale with skill.
My pen lies still.
And so it is with life and love, I forget.

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