inspiration comes and goes
and when it returns: no one knows
i can't find inspiration anymore--
not in love or anger or sadness
i no longer feel inspired
by the steady waters or crashing waves
the mighty rocks, the rolling hills, the holy mountains
have all but become mundane
the infinite forests and ancestral trees
no longer find a quiet lover in me.
i have evolved to a final, incorporeal form--
and it is simply that I have become
the hushed essence of nothingness
