I have resumed writing.
Not for the inspiration, certainly not for any reposition.
I feel trapped.
In a boundless void.
I seek an escape route.
Any desposition from the reality that is not.
Again and again, there is not one; none whatsoever, any hope.
Nothing feels satisfactory anymore.
The light within faded with distant memories.
Further away from the provinces of devotion.
I write now, because i need to create a new reality.
One where I will hopefully find myself.
Where rainbows replace fear and storms overtake mindfulness.
