Sand Creation via Compfight cc
She is a sorceress.
She comes to you at night.
She touches your eyelids and calls your name.
She stands before you in her beauty.
She shows you her face, which
few have seen.
Gently, she scoops you up and carries you in her arms.
You go places.
She shows you everything.
Suddenly, you know.
All night she sings to you
songs so beautiful you want to cry.
In your dream, she provides a pen
and a notebook.
She lets you write it all down.
She tells you that you have been chosen,
that your life has a purpose,
and your poetry is divine.
At dawn, she takes you back
and promises to return.
You wake up.
You search for the notebook, but it isn't there.
You try to remember the songs she taught you,
but they are gone too.
You sit at your desk, all day, trying to write
Your words come back, lame and hollow.
You wait for her that night
and many more.
She never returns.
And now you will never know for sure
if this is the real purpose
of your life.
It is Day 24 of NaPoWriMo and the inspiration just wouldn't come. I almost gave up. Luckily, you can always write about how you can't write.