Where, oh where are you?

Where, oh, where are you? I sit here alone doodling and mulling over our previous engagements. Wondering when you will make an appearance. It surely has been a while.

I have never taken your presence for granted. You jolt me from the deepest of sleep and I answer your call. Besides, it’s not like I have a choice; the sheer jolts are so intense that failure to respond only hurts me. Oh dear, where are you?

I feel trapped here in the land of the normal! Filled with words that have no sequence, emotions that are unstirred, thoughts that have no continuity. I’m tumbling in a sea of words, in waves of phrases that bash onto the the wordsmith’s barrier (writer’s block). I wash up to shore, marooned from what I love the most – words and emoting. I stare at the unforgiving sea and feel the looming presence of land lovers; persons who have never experienced the word call.

If this is what ‘normal’ people live with I don’t want this. It feels like wading in quick sand, slowly sinking to one’s demise with no rescue in view. I feel empty and useless, like a sailor stuck on land with no way back to their beloved sea. My days are full of longing for the one thing that cannot be ordered on UberEats, that cannot be bought by no amount of money, that cannot be achieved by any amount of education.

All I have now are trickles like that from a small stream, little odd moments that amount to almost nothing. Just a course reminder of what was and could be. Somehow these trickles feel like a slow fade from glory. That last dim light of sunset, a sad reminder of those sun filled days where words flowed like uncontrollable sunlight penetrating every crevice and hole, sending those rays of light on a quest to reach the unreachable. Like a torrential rain from a summer storm, unforgiving in its let down; excitable in its release, so much so it turns to flooding. Yet now I’m left with light showers designed to tease and not nourish, a flattery of what can be but isn’t. A distant call of a lover, reminding you of what was but is not.

I stand here waiting and watching, wondering and longing. Where, oh, where are you, oh inspiration? Come to me now. Please, grace me with your presence. How I long to go back to my wordy ways and live the dream of any wordsmith of writing to one’s content. Sailing the tide of unending words. Crashing into phrase waves like a skilled surfer; taking in every expression and emotion and laying it bare on a page. And wowing the masses of readers with what only comes naturally. But is illusive without inspiration.

Where, oh where are you inspiration?! Find me please as I am lost in the wordless dessert. This is my SOS; save me please from my word drought. Inspire me once more and forever.