It has been a long time without my muse.
I had been dry and totally without imagination, but chores.
It had been waiting days, even for my muse - and a bit horrible, too.
And, oh, so bad days for a writer, if she can't write...
May God make ways, that I, in an ode to a night, in a song, spill
some sacred dust in my memory.
/rosevoc
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