I am emptied,
hollowed out,
bereft of clever ideas,
wonderful wordplay,
contemporary metaphors
and penetrating insights . . . . .
.
These words today emerge . . . . .
. . . . . stumbling . . . .
struggling to assemble anything
approaching . . . . anything.
.
There is a taste of ash
as phrases crumble to dust
even before they are written.
.
And yet, there is simple,
gently-joyous peace
filling the space
where my mind-factory
used to weave its tapestry.
.
Om