The muse has gone,
Ever from my sight,
In my years of loss,
I thought I would grasp,
What it is not to have,
I thought that I would awaken and realize
Life is pain,
And yet I seek my muse just the same,
The muse that escaped me time and time again,
Slipping though my fingers as if a grains of sand,
Always taking, leading, and then letting go of my hand.
Leaving me stranded where I had once began,
Nothing to show for my years wasted in her pursuit,
Thus left me, has my youth,
Wasted and squandered in my muses name,
When I all I had to realize,
Muses and poets are the same.
Matthew Moser
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/muses-lost/
