Artless

The wall is blank. The canvas left lying somewhere else, untouched. Inspiration has dried up. Once, creativity was easy to grasp, it came before it was called. Now it's an errant, almost forgotten, notion. What is there to say or tell a world that moves on before you can even gather your thoughts? What could you possibly put forth that would be inspiring? One day, perhaps, you'll realize you have years worth of stories, all stored up in your mind, waiting to be released.