Sometimes, Nope. Many a times I am out of words Seems like, There is nothing to write. Absolute blankness I stare out in utter darkness! It’s a strange feeling, Of knowing Yet, being unknown. Forcing the words out Never does the trick Its only when: the words really flow. The charm of writing Comes from there then All of a sudden The ink leaks The heart bleeds The nib scribbles The words scratched And soul is at peace. That contentment which follows! Oh, how I may define it? The writer's pleasure they are. Forever unknown Yet so deeply felt. I may write useless But somehow, It helps. To relieve the burden: within. When the mind feels so light It’s ready to take the flight. So later will I visit! Till then let me flee Away to far way skies!