My thoughts are devolving… Atoms that once raced to realms far beyond this plane, ripping through curtains only their might could move, now settle for “that tree and back.”
Where have you gone, fragile inspiration? For whom have my muses abandoned me, what wrongs have I done to them?
My pace is slow and my legs heavy, but I shall plod on.
A destination is nigh.
I may be blind and deaf to those things I once took so easily for granted, but I will hold my arms out until the ache is too much to bear, in wait for their sweet return.
And as my most favorite passage says.
“These woods are lovely, dark and deep,
but I have promises to keep,
and miles to go before I sleep,
and miles to go before I sleep.”