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
Amanda Sebring 