Discombobulated

My love for words creates mental pain- when they race around in my befogged brain. I sit here dreaming- pen held in my hand; mind burning aglow with ideas so grand. To be very frank, the two oft don't meet, the paper stays blank- my head whirs in heat. May go on for hours- these frenzied word games in seeking a crack to set free the strains; spinning and whirling for clear words to find- metaphor, imagery- meter combined. What comes to mind has been said before- needed are words to unfold and restore old themes of nature and love redefined; God above, ourselves, the woes of mankind- of life and death- of sad wars and true peace. These variant themes need a new release! Burst open, you seed! Expose yourself bare so I can soon grasp the words to prepare- and push forth a poem through this foggy light to offer a gift from my mental plight!