The poet and the muse

He grasped a quill and stared in blind.
He sought but could not find,
For she was lost within the dark.
And it could not matter what he's done to seek her out.
In past, she drove him mad and made him laugh,
He looked in depth of her dark eyes
And saw her lovely, made up life
But those times were through and out of light.
And now, only pain remained the same.
The muse was gone and so the shelter of his heart.