I am listening, waiting for the voice to speak.
But the voice does not come.
The lightbulb remains cold and dark in the void of my mind.
Smothering silence reigns.
I hear nothing, see nothing, feel nothing. There is nothing to perceive.
Each moment passes into the next.
Inspiration sought, space given, approached with humble uncertainty.
The time for inspiration comes and goes.
The appointed hour has arrived and retreated.
The audience came and went.
Nothing offered, nothing received.
It all comes to an end.
Before it has even begun.
It is over. Lost. Expired.
Where was my muse?
What have I done to offend her?
Why was I abandoned?