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when will my muse return?
I dream of the day when I'm reconnected with myself
my head so focused on today
my feet so grounded in reality
I have no time for childish poems and rhymes

oh, but my inner me,
the best part of who I am,
the one whom Jesus called unto him,
she sits alone in the corner of my mind
and weeps
wondering when the sullen one with hope in her eyes will return
the one who laughs freely
as they hold hands and play patty cake
she who has so much to give
and so much to share...
but only when they touch
otherwise, those bright eyes
glaze over and become blinded
she no longer sees the beauty in life
she can't find the peace, the hope
on her own
she weeps

and I, so out of touch,
wonder what is all that racket...
and a tear rolls down my face
and I blame it on the weather
or the world
or my job
but I never peek into the playhouse of my imagination
where I used to reside

before people told me it wasn't profitable
before they said I wasn't good enough
before they scolded me,
telling me to grow up and get my head out of the clouds
before they said I need to take life more seriously...

I lived there
in that place of serenity and enlightenment
of inspiration and innovation

I, with my head in the clouds
had a better view.

I'm considering a return,
the real world has too many restrictions...