My fate is sealed. It could be worse. Free will could delay the inevitable and there I'd be
enjoying my retirement on the reel end of a fishing pole.
I spend countless sleep deprived days waiting for inspiration. I had it once, published two books in a year. Now the gray matter is putty.
Where does one go to spark the mental kindling wood? A change of scenery-something beyond the rearrangement of my living room furniture-is what I want. To be physically immersed in the unfamiliar might be my short term goal. A new vocabulary to describe the new environment would
benefit both myself and my readers.
I am not studious by nature or choice, I dabble and try on. There is no desire to become proficient; there is a drive-indefinable that keeps me questing. How remarkable to be so old and not know
what or who I want to be when I grow up. Latent desires are sparked by boredom. I guess
that would not be a surprising revelation by any one who is more comfortable with solitude.
There are unlimited moments of inspiration in both my waking and sleeping selves. We all have
unspoken glimpses of the universe. Some of us pay attention. I need to pay better attention.
My desires float on a single word sometimes. Other times, creativity reveals itself through an unexpected shared moment in nature. Something catches my attention and I have to rely on my memory to reproduce the encounter. It's remarkable that given the immense clutter in my gray matter, I am able to recall the insignificant interruption. But, I do eventually.
The muse is stirring and restless. Her path travels through the recesses of my darkness
and peaks of my luminosity. My being transforms through her. You will discover my truth
if you listen.
I want to leave nothing behind but words on a page. Considering that to be a fairly green
carbon footprint, my legacy will keep me company through my existential journey. The words
which I borrow and repurpose, as my own, are gifted to the future. Take great care of them
for I was worthy.
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