soaring like the win

When will my inspiration surface again? Like a gentle breeze on a summer's day, Or a burst of colors in a vibrant bouquet. I long for the spark that ignites my soul, To guide my pen and make my words whole. But in this moment, it seems so far away, Lost in the depths of a creative delay. Yet I know deep within, it will arise, Like the sun breaking through cloudy skies. For inspiration is a fickle friend, Sometimes elusive, but it will not end. It may hide in the whispers of the wind, Or in the laughter of a cherished friend. It may be found in the beauty of nature's embrace, Or in the stillness of a quiet, sacred space. So I'll be patient and trust in its return, Knowing that my passion will once again burn. For inspiration is a cycle, ebbing and flowing, And in its absence, new seeds are sowing. So I'll embrace this pause, this moment of rest, For it is in the stillness that I am truly blessed. And when the time is right, my muse will appear, Guiding me to create, to dream, to persevere. So fear not, my heart, for inspiration will come, Like a symphony's crescendo, beating like a drum. And when it does, I'll be ready to soar, To write the words that my soul longs to explore.