It is not that I have nothing to do or that I don’t have the time to do it.
It is that I don’t have the energy to do whatever it is I can or need to do.
My mind continues to swirl with a myriad of creative ideas. I know what I could be doing. I struggle to rise up from the depths.
Lethargy holds me down. I can only move against the weight of these two, which seems to increase the burden. I swim through a frozen sea, one clutching hand in front of the other.
I am learning to let go of the big picture, to take things one stroke at a time.
I place a piece of wood inlay there.
I write a word, sentence, paragraph, page here.
Suddenly, the craft is complete, the story written.
And for the briefest of moments, my dark-winged companions are lost in the pulsing waves behind me.