Free the words in my heart! O muse!
Do not delay. Do not refuse.
For they burn deep in the frame
Like the embers within the flame.
Fan the conflagration, sweet muse
Else hot coals turn to ash and refuse.
My sweet words becoming brackish
As water from old pipes – rustish.
And now hear me, dear muse
For my words dry up with use.
Renew the flow I pray you
That I may once again see plane view.