Sometimes, the silence is seductive.

Hours will caress a state of mind,

While looking around the room,

Wanting to find a purpose.

A quiet hypnosis shadows any

Glimpse of creative agony.

It would seem readily known

That this time in one’s life,

Is filled with inspiration, though

Stifled in its immediacy.

The bearer of such trickery

Spins off in a spell’s mystique

Of simple conviction,

That loss of reason.

It is an escape so apparent,

One only settles in and waits.