Sonnet 100, by NY Shakespeare Exchange

Where art thou Muse that thou forget'st so long,
To speak of that which gives thee all thy might?
Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song,
Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light?
Return forgetful Muse, and straight redeem,
In gentle numbers time so idly spent;
Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem
And gives thy pen both skill and argument.
Rise, resty Muse, my love's sweet face survey,
If Time have any wrinkle graven there;
If any, be a satire to decay,
And make Time's spoils despised every where.
     Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life,
     So thou prevent'st his scythe and crooked knife.

Sonnet 100, from The Sonnet Project, by the New York Shakespeare Exchange.

Wow, what a beautiful short film and a reverberating score.  Shakespeare deftly personifies the Muse, as the writer at once criticizes him (or her) for misjudgment and neglect, yet pleads for his or her return and salvation.  The director situates the writer in a kind of prison, a solitary and sparing sort, who struggles against anonymity and irrelevance.  He suggests that at the end of it all, however, it is too late: Time has wasted life.  Or has it?  Perhaps, too, the Muse managed to come back in the end, and the writer is forever enshrined in the library.