As an author —
My characters think my thoughts, feel my feelings with me.
They go where I’ve been & dream my dreams.
So when I feel something new, something without words yet,
I must either gift it to them or create someone new to carry it.
How else can I ever understand myself?
It has many names: writer’s block, ennui, loss of interest.
A gray cloud poured over the soul so nothing can grow, the soil turned to ash. All those seeds stagnant in the cold ground.
It can ache, it can cut, it can weep. In every form, it hurts.
But it can also be an illusion.
Not all flowers thrive under the sun, after all.
The cloud may not be a lack or a loss, but a sign.
“You’re going the wrong way.”
Choose flowers yearning for shade and plant them instead.
Perhaps not the garden intended, but the one ready to grow.
And it will still be beautiful.