winter storm

I have lost my muse. Or the muse I thought I had. For it was really nothing more than a self-imposed direction for my thoughts, a purpose and meaning of my own creation in a blinded effort to corral the inexplicable emotions of the day. I genuinely miss this fallacy I constructed. The non-existent siren of my words has been replaced with a void of silence and emptiness and nothing. Only blank, open space where nouns, verbs, and adjectives used to roam freely, tripping off my tongue without restraint or compulsion. Now even when forced to materialize, I cannot will the words into being. They have become dormant in my mind, hibernating perhaps, till the next winter storm of sentimentality.