Elusive Ink

Elusive Ink.



Sometimes late at night, that time when dusk 



has slipped into the darkest of wee hours, it comes for me:



a silky veil  designed for the human condition, lest a  writer's adversary-with only a cunning allusion



of its intent.



I find myself vigorously resisting its tempting seduction.



I defiantly glare at the clock.



My eyes struggle with slumber depravity and lucidity, teetering precariously.



In my dreamy state, I wrestle to release my words from a cage



in which they are held captive.



My imagination orchestrates a duel, jousting at the captor of my words.



Prisoners behind symbolic bars clamoring to escape; held, restrained against their will.



I thrash about to liberate them.



Alas, the words will have to wait. For my waining will succombs



solely and finitely to the intoxicating ink of the solemn night--



behind the windows of the soul.



d.d. denham-dobrenchuk