the next stage

a deafening silence

the empty house

the chores yawn out before me and I cannot be persuaded to act

I have longed for this

and now I am at a loss

what to do with myself

now more than the ever

the past creeps silently around me, chiding me for my failures

all that could be done, all the needs to be attended

and I sit, unhindered and yet uninspired

words needle me and blank screens menace me and my chop shortly at the keyboard

I am, am I 

bereft