Stillness. There is no fire causing havoc in the forest. There is no floodwater to wash away the dirt it rests upon, Screaming a song. The birds are mellow. The squirrels are hiding. My back rests against a maple tree. Imagination is free, but bound by peaceful things. My thoughts can wander freely, but the woods are dull. Can you sing me a song? My plots fall flat. Falling... though an endless void. There is only black. This mind is useless if my tales are null. I already drowned the rabbit hole. Silence. I already egged the nests, And boulders keep the bears at rest. They're sleeping. The woods are sleeping. The trees still standing, And I'm still humming this same old tune.