Not Long Left - A Rest From Writing

Not one word is worth
the birth upon the paper.
Not one line feels fine
like a quick fix i split,
my mind in two.
A new neat petite,
poem owing all
to life and its lessons.
Time has caught
its last grain of sand,
the eyes allow the land
to start again.
The rain on the pane
is just rain on the pane
the sea is just the sea
the liquid thoughts,
are just me bieng me.
The poems have dried up
I have explelled all words
which were caught in the net
of my mind.
All is silent
all is calm
the dealer will return,
with more words
yet until then,
I shall not practice as a poet.

Not Long Left

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-rest-from-writing/