Once I felt inspired, by the sound of voices harmonizing together up on a stage, by the majesty of the mountains, the rushing of the waves.
I have seen concentric patterns in the feathers of birds, and infinite spirals on the shells of snails.
I have been enraptured by the crescendo of timpani drums, carried away as I lay.
Once I felt alive, my senses awakened by awareness of you, as our lips touched and lingered.
Now as I sit here alone, contemplating what should be, what I should do.
I find no inspiration, no blips of interest on the screen, just remembrances of you.
Rather that I was walking through the cool tall grasses in the spring, wild and free, than sitting here remembering what used to be.