I've spent many dusk & dawns in quiet despair,
Unstringing my brains instrument, with no letters or song to share.
The notes I've prepared, with much care & with might,
Still remain unsung, like fireflies on a winter's night.

Stringing and unstringing, night and day,
The song I had come to sing, still unsung, I pray.
In light's hush, where silhouette & shadows dance & play,
I've spent many days, my instrument in a ambiguous sway.

In days gone by, I spent my time with care,
Stringing and unstringing, my instrument to share.
The song I came to sing, remained unsung and cold,
While I toiled away with pen, my music growing old.

In motionless darkness, where fireflies begin to play,
As I struggle with pen to string & unstring my brain each day.
Their twinkling lights on my notepad,a fleeting gauzy gray,
Reflect the mind's turmoil that besets me, night and day.

Like a bird that feels the light, when dawn is still dark,
My art & song stirs within me, as a gentle, sweet spark.
It yearns to take flight, to sing its sweet refrain,
But alas, the strings remain, unstrung and in vain.

I long to hear its melody, to feel its gentle breeze,
But it remains still unsung, a secret, locked within my pleas.
The unstrung lyre, a symbol of my inner strife,
A longing to create, but unable to take flight.

My thoughts, a maze of twisted, turning roads,
A labyrinth where my heart and mind abode.
I yearn to break this gruelling silence that suffering has made,
To let my song, a pain's symphony, be played.

But still, my heart remains vehemently unmoved,unsung,
A heavy burden, though weighed down by the uncanny silence that is wrong.
Still I'll not beg for release, for the stilling of my pain,
For in my quietude, I'll find a strength, a love that remains.

My life's now a phoenix bird, that feels the light,
When dawn is still dark, and the world's in flight.
It sings of hope, and of love's sweet refrain,
But I, a silent author, a poet, can only remain.

Like fireflies, my skills is the songbird that feels,
The illumination when dawn is still dark, it reveals.
A melody that mutters & whispers, a symphony that heals,
The soul, & brings me peace, and sets me free.

But still, the song remains unsung, I mourn,
As I continue to strum and pluck the words, & yearn.
For the...