After a week away I find myself at a loss for what to write about.  I spent the entire time I was away immersing myself in the things I missed, and wrote about them as I went.  Now I wake up to the same old same of regular old life and feel a little uninspired by what is surrounding me.

If only I could just put my head back where I was and start going through the motions in the day-to-day again.

A week away, and now I draw a blank.

Relaxation has emptied my inspirational tank.

I have no new ideas to write about.

Quite simply, I’m just out.

Experiencing what I missed has sated me.

There’s nothing left to miss from what I see.

Finding what was lost has made me whole.

But it has taken its mental toll.

My minds now empty of anything new.

For what to write, I now rue.

A blank canvas now for me to start fresh.

Where new ideas and old problems can mesh.

What lies ahead for my pen I do not know.

But that light now begins to glow.

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