Writing.
It used to be easy for me.
Easy-peasy.
But then again, a lot of things used to be easier for me.
Faith, Hope, and Love, to mention only three.
And friendship to the n‘th degree.
Sacrifice.
Peopling in general.
But sleep, no, sleep has always been a known quantity, a relentless struggle to fall asleep, to stay asleep, to wake up again and force myself out and into the world.
The foreboding of the empty page, the deserted blog, is what’s ahead and I cannot find the words. With aged the words aren’t so easily typed out but when they do they congeal into some form of idealized reality.
It’s been a long time. Too long. I wonder if I can keep it up like I used to. Day after day. A thought here, a thought there, proof that I was here, that I’m still here. The Temple is gone but it returns like the Phoenix, a promised moment of discovery and transformation.
Welcome home.