I don't write anymore.
I haven't picked up a pen in a year and a half.
The words are gone and I am empty.

I look at an autumn tree and don't see renewal and change.
I see the oncoming winter
and the cold depression it will bring.

I look at a sunset and no longer see the universal canvas.
I see the end of a long day.

I look at a stream and instead of imagining the lives of fish
I see only perpetual change.

I don't write anymore
and it's killing me.