Elusive Ink

Late Night Word Chasing, Succombing to Writer's Block

Elusive Ink.



Sometimes late at night, that time when dusk 



has slipped into the darkest of wee hours, it comes for me:



a silky veil  designed for the human condition, lest a  writer's adversary-with only a cunning allusion



of its intent.



I find myself vigorously resisting its tempting seduction.



I defiantly glare at the clock.



My eyes struggle with slumber depravity and lucidity, teetering precariously.



In my dreamy state, I wrestle to release my words from a cage



in which they are held captive.



My imagination orchestrates a duel, jousting at the captor of my words.



Prisoners behind symbolic bars clamoring to escape; held, restrained against their will.



I thrash about to liberate them.



Alas, the words will have to wait. For my waining will succombs



solely and finitely to the intoxicating ink of the solemn night--



behind the windows of the soul.



d.d. denham-dobrenchuk