The words are bubbling. They are brewing. I once danced with them on the beach with the setting sun. Now the moon reigns and the words are a mush of over cooked strew. They are just bubbling and brewing no longer dancing in my mind.
The beautiful melody of fantastic descriptions and deep pondering has left my side. I now sit wishing and wanting for the words I needed to say to arise again. I wait for them to dance out of the sludge like stew that is now taking over my mind.
Tiredness slows down my thoughts and the need for sleep mixes all of them together. At sunset with the cool breeze whispering words to me, my mind was perfectly poetic as it pondered a pure poem.  Now only random ramblings can be rattled off as the stew thickens and traps the dancing melody of the pure poem inside.
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