I no longer hear the muses beckoning me to their gates. While I hold the key, it is up to them if I shall use it. I used to hear the sweet ethereal ringing of chimes and bells that were set off by the cascading winds, upon this land.
I know from whence I came but, I am unsure in what direction, a new path should be lain. "Onward!" said with such confidence but, here in this moment, the rustle of tree leaves has gone silent. The world has me now trapped in a vacuum. Woe, for I seek that which is onward but, onward does not seek me. Onward being the future wanting progress, what is it that these muses seek. Tis it the desperate prayers, or might it be when I have finally given in. Do they seek strength, or do they wish weakness, only then to render salvation.