Lost my muse, lost my passion. Feel as if my soul’s been sucked right out of me. Maybe I forgot, allowed a renewal to lapse, perhaps. Maybe I just didn’t pay the bill.
My backyard is just my backyard for the past few days. The gardens need a weeding, the birdfeeders, a seeding. This is all I see this morning in the sunlight.
So I work on what’s been put off by creative spirit as mundane. This breaking of the line, the stopping of the flow, this that short-circuits all my senses till they’re numb.
Maybe I’ll just fly on auto-pilot for a while, until I find a softer place where I can land to break my fall.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology