Untainted, complete in its fullness of color, nothing stares back at me.  My mind offers no inspiration, no guidance other than a forced whisper, “just write.”  What shall I write?  Logic begs me to stain concern and pointed opinions of current world events and injustices. Art insists that it is incumbent upon me to ink a lyrical kaleidoscope.  Unable to direct either side of reasoning, I find that I am destined to be pulled in both directions until one edges the win – or I break.

haiku #18
warring words rage on
threatening the life of muse
olive branch hangs low

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