Inspiration Chalice- Category, Random

Inspiration Chalice

Inspiration is,

A drug,

A deep one, you savor.

Inspiration is a large,

Strawberry-banana smoothie,

Soothing your throat,

A cool, cold, thick,

Smushy substance,

With tanginess,

Strongly refreshing.

It’s as if,

When it meanders,

To press its coldness,

To your warm lips,

That you’ve finally,

Come in contact,

With something that,

Wakes you.

You are a sleeping beauty of sorts,

And this chalice is your,

Salvation.

You have awakened,

Only to look into the eyes,

Of,

The prince of the land.

My, how long will I wait,

For you,

Chalice,

While I sleep beneath,

This canopy?

A spell they’ve put me under,

Although I’ve no idea who has done this.

Ironically pretty though,

Ironically beautiful,

Are my dreams.

Yet, I’m missing that piece,

Like a lock to a chest of marvels,

That makes these,

Dreams reality.

What a cruel thing

Some faceless nemesis,

Has done,

For all eternity,

Tickled forever, forever teased,

By no other,

Than these masters.

Oh my prince,

Will you ever come with my bejeweled  chalice,

Of that drink I so crave?

I think, perhaps so.

But- I must have it.

I feel so close-

To it.

I know my inspiration,

To unlock my treasures,

Cannot be far-

Nor my handsome prince.

Inspiration alone might be,

All I need to pen the beauties,

In my head-

But to have the bonus of a prince-

Well, I would forever float on air,

Over some magical kingdom.

My prince and chalice ride swiftly along,

In a kingdom hidden from me by my cursed sleep.

Will I ever see it?

Will I ever wake?