My soul is bare...
there is nothing left, not a single drop
to burst into a fountain of magic.
There is nothing,
no fantasy sublime with which to enchant.
My words have failed me—
fled from my mind into
darkness.
All that I own are
the little fancies—
sweet, wispy dreams
that elude my grasp...
and gone are the days that held my clearest thoughts.
Deep is the cavern where the
lost have fallen.
I am left with only a prayer,
heartfelt for its vagueness,
a bare offering of my soul
for Thee.