The deafening rush of words and phrases in my mind crash forcefully into the very concept of writer's block, and yet - the thoughts do not  transfer from my fingers, to the keyboard, and ultimately on the screen before my eyes. It has happened - that thing which in the past  I had so often mused about; questioning how this could happen to those whose opinions and ideas so easily come forth by way of written communication. Not easily at a loss for words, the pain of this void thrashes at the fiber and sinews of my literary being - leaving me exhausted and aching for  a reprieve from its clutches. In the midst of all other emotional and life-changing patterns, why this? It is vital that I clear from the recesses and folds of my brain, the myriad of thoughts and concepts which march like an endless troupe through the cold, gray matter that governs my ability to  artistically communicate. Running back and forth in the labyrinth of walls within, I cannot - will not rest - until I break forth through this barrier of restraint to the door and back into the light.

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