Inspiration wells up in me.
Like a flood I sweep across.
But parts of me are washed away.
The river itself keeps flowing.
Although I´ve changed it´s shape it still remains.
It has the same name.
My vital vigour ebbs off I´m left with
seldoms, inklings and scarcity.
As I get deeper- so does my volume.
Though I seem to overflow easily taking on water
too quickly.
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