Nothing left

At times I feel I've
got nothing left to write,
that I've had a streak of streams
so seamless and unbreakable,
creative abilities unshakable,
sedated in syllabic seduction..
but this past year I've experienced
quite a reduction in my
production of pieces..

I don't force it,
if it flows, it flows
if not, then I float on
 letting it go..
I tend to give in if I sit too long
with the pen in my hand
staying so static and still
with nothing coming out,
I don't find a line
and begin to dwell in doubt..
but here I am now
writing something at least
cause it really does put my mind at ease,
this I still feel and cherish..

The ink streams in sync and escapes
as I'm on the brink.. about to break..
if I can find the words
and formulate a flow
I watch the panic vanish
and let my blues go..