Where is this inspiration coming from?
Without a beginning, it emerges like a drum,
the beating never thinning, like a perpetual glum.
When will it end?
How long will it last?
It's on you that I depend,
but you're leaving so very fast,
and time, I can't extend,
by wishing it vast.
You're who I can't befriend,
for the die has been cast.
And against others I can't contend,
with my regretful past.
Know that you're my source,
my inspirational spring.
Throw me along my course,
my motivational sting.
Don't leave yet;
it's much too soon.
We've only just met;
so please, stay past noon.
There's more to come; I'm sure.
Just inscribe in me another thought,
and a new piece, I'll procure,
from the spirit to me, you've brought.
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