i wish i was as eloquent as you. as free with my words as you are, as precise with every thought, every emotion, every breath, every metaphor. your lines make me want to fall to my knees and weep like one blown away by some wondrous revelation.
where is she?
where is that earnest dreamer that i used to be? would that i could go back in time and tweak a moment or two here and there. if only life was like a digital photograph, easily touched up and transformed into an artist's masterpiece.
perhaps if i had been braver, had faced life's truths head-on without hesitation, had refused to be squeezed dry of my dreams and my thoughts, i could write like you do.
part of me still sees the world in the ever-pulsating, vari-colored lights of NOW. and strives to capture it. freeze it in a frame. encase it in glass like a dainty little snowglobe and stare at it for hours.
but i am…exhausted.
and the moment fades. inspiration flickers out, its blessed illumination barely even touching the edges of creativity. NOW passes into THEN. and into obscurity.
i am tired.