I hate tired bullshit cliches,
but I have it.
                   I have the Block,
standing in the way of progress,
blocking the road to Kutteridge.

Behind the block is my own world of magick
            and love
                        and danger
and mystery
            and possibility
                               and potential,
but here all I have are dull gray shards of yearning
and longing for that place,
pleading for inspiration,
desperate for the ability
            to focus
my energy into that place, into my creation.

This is the solidarity of my life,
                the last piece of the puzzle of myself,

this is where I become complete.

Help me Kate! Help me Eathan! Bring me back through the veil between my world and the one I have given you!

WHY WHY WHY AM I so dry,
                          so barren, so infertile,
straining for words barely beyond my reach!

Give them to me! Give me these words, have I not earned them?           
            Have I not fought for them?
By what right do you take them from me?

Ah, but if you think to wither my will
                      You are the one
Who will walk away disappointed!
I shall kindle the fire on my own
              As I have always done

My fate
           My power
                  My pen
Is in my own hands

-Amanda N. Sebring
January 2014


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