Once, upon a midmonth dreary
I grew cold and rather weary
dreaming on those days of weblog lore
and the fact that nothing mattered
all my mind and pen lay splattered
waiting but my mind said 'never more!'
Sad I was with troubles heaving
and the black dog came a thieving
reaving round my own creative door.
"Out!" I said and threw it further
from my soul with weakened fervour
but it reaved and thieved against my door.
"Can it be.." I muttered slowly
"that I be torn down, made lowly
dashed and smashed away from weblog lore?"
Ah the darkness I remember and the last
day's dying ember, words all lost
as I said "never more!".
Was it madness that betook me
sadness antigladness shook me?
or a feeling tighter than a closing door?
It was never mid-december but a month
that I remember closed its hands
about my mental jaw
and I felt my Hope all reeling
gainst a downward sagging feeling
sinking slinking far beneath my weblog yore
and I heard with dreadful worry
mind and mentor in my slurry
stuttering in fearful flurry
words half heard from off a darkening shore
"'Tis black dog posing as a raven
cowardly and ever craven
willing you to seek a haven binding, blinding,
where there's 'never more!'”
and I dallied leaving all the days of weblog yore.
Ah the sound of my retreat from writing,
flighting from my friends at weblog’s door
was all that I intended, never meaning to be mended
or to take another pen or pore
my mind and intellectual being,
never caring, never seeing
none but black dog sitting at my door.
But the pull the power of writing
brought me back from clouded sighting
made me chase the raven off my door
and the black dog grew much smaller
while my spirit stretched and taller
I stood up and shouted 'Never more!"[/FONT][/FONT]