Every day I try to write something that could produce,
an essay,
an article,
a novella,
a tale,
a story,
a fable,
yet, I go no further.

Whether it is because,
I lack the inspiration,
or the words do not appear,
or a thought hasn’t or didn’t occur,
or the words vanished from my mind,
like Alice down the rabbit hole.

So I sit,
and wait,
I ponder,
I contemplate,
I deliberate,
I muse,
I cogitate,
and then I reflect.
I either gaze, up into the heavens,
or down the rabbit hole,
and once inspired,
I write, for all to see,
What is hidden, inside of me.

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