I wrote it while flying cross-country at which point food and drink became more important. The clock kept ticking. By the time dinner had finished, it was nearly time for bed, and I just plain forgot the poem. (But will he post one tonight?…)
Sing, Muse!
Come, Muse! Grace
these cells laden,
encumbered, bracken-
masked, alone
Swing Inspiration's
sword, cut these bonds
which cruelly imprison.
Sing! May these cells
quiver for joys just
now birthed, for new
connections made,
for purpose kindled,
for feelings restored.
35/100
all the voices in my head 
Oh!!! I love this one so much. A call for creativity written in the sky. What’s better than that?
Thank you!