Writer's Block

I sit at the desk, the thoughts whirling in my mind.
The screen glows green before me, enticing me,
Urging me to fill it with words.
I am driven, an obsession that cannot be denied.
I bend to the keyboard and begin,
Hammering away at a dizzying pace.
I stop after a minute and read what I write.
Disgusted, I delete it all.
How can I put these emotions into words?
What will it take to unchain my thoughts?
To set them free on the page,
To make them dance with a life of their own?
I doubt. Do I truly have the gift?
Can I move people; make them feel what I am feeling?
I sigh, and stare at the mocking screen.
Sitting back, I examine this wall before me.
I scan for any sign of weakness,
Any place it can be breached.
I see a crack, and move towards it, striking with my mind.
The wall crumbles slightly and the words begin to flow.
I pause, fearful. Do I dare go beyond this place?
Does this trickle of water have the potential?
Could it become a stream of imagination
Flowing through me?
I resign myself to the task,
Digging away at Hoover Dam with a toothpick.
More words flow.
Sentences and paragraphs take root and grow.
Characters come to life, moving through the world.
I am frenzied, the screen no longer mocking.
I am flying, experiencing a natural high.
My fingers dance over the keys with practiced ease,
Pouring my emotion out.
The leak has become a hole.
I climb through, and on the other side
I find that which I have sought.
I question, I probe, I explore, and when I return
I have the story in my hands.
An exotic fruit whose nectar satisfies those who thirst for life.
It is my Sistine Chapel, Mona Lisa,
My masterpiece.
Like Columbus I have sailed uncharted seas,
Seen wonders that are just within the boundaries of the imagination.
I come down, exhausted.
I have run a marathon, and I am victorious.
My prize sits before me, a glittering, fresh-cut jewel.
But it is worthless, unless it is shared with the world.

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