Sometimes I must burrow away;
Take a break from creating.
My hand is forced by unseen
torments made powerful, only in my
This is the curse of in absentia.
I emerge revived; throwing off the weight
of heavy blanketing fog over mind and body.
Creativity circulating and coursing
my veins once more; I am restored.
Cocoon of paralysis shattering
sending me sprawling, kicking and screaming,
back into existence.
And for now, I win.