I have left off this act for a long time. I feel like a child just learning to speak. Infancy after adulthood is a rude shock. An unnatural situation. I dicovered the frustration involved in googoogaggling and the exhiliration of a first step as I strove to regain adulthood. I do not know how I have lived without her loving embrace for so long-is it the abiding block that made it easier to bear? or was I just enchanted by the fever of daily human pursuits that I deserted the love of my life?
The stacatto utterances of the key-pad is like music to my ears. It calls her from the hidden crevices where she lays basking in the warmth of a rosy world, somewhere deep within the recess of my heart and mind, which hung over her still body like a benign moon. Even though I still trade with words everyday, I cannot find the words to woo back my lover. But, like the spartans, I wont despair or relent even to the death of the monotony of my steady pay-check and a draggy work schedule that snuffs the life out of all the muses.
The love of my life, my books, my seed, words like brick and mortar. I long after those days when i wrote copiously and was sated by the idea of creating a world to which I can invite my readers from far and wide.
