I feel like writing but I have nothing unique to write at the moment. I was ready to let the urge pass and wait for the work of the muse to take hold… then I remembered the decade (and then some) when I was deaf to the whisperers of my writing and my output dwindled to naught…. I have begun to hear these musings again and it speaks to this renewal that I am impatient to produce and desperate to write where once I was bereft of the impulse. So now I write of the want to write and the lack of inspiration becomes the inspiration for words like water on the thriving garden of staggered text.
One lonely leaf fell onto the windshield… it sat there. I stared at it and felt it staring at me. A gentle gust of wind took it to the curb and out of sight… but I had seen it… I had seen it and I know what it means, I know it is coming. Change is inevitable and sometimes it falls right before your eyes. I have seen it.
I drive the same route into town each Tuesday, the same as each friday. This tuesday I felt as though I were stuck on repeat from the previous friday and I thought, “what a miserable déjà vu.” it occurred to me, it will be the same next week and for the foreseeable future. It was soul-crushing… The only solution is within me… I am empty.