Inspiration is in short supply these days.
There's been a drought lately.
And how can one live without Inspiration?!
At least, a person who lives out of art.
How can I breathe while knowing that I am inhaling the lack of hope?
Has fate sealed me away from myself?
Did she erupt in a jealous rage,
Evaporating the lakes of the muses,
To hear their screams soar above the hiss of despair?
Is Fate so fickle?
Or perhaps, it is fear?
Fate so willingly murdered my darling,
And had me believe that nothing was wrong;
That I was still the girl who stared awe-struck at the world,
Rushing to the nearest wall to record my latest discovery.
Well, she murdered him too.
But not before she cast his face into the mask that's been suffocating me,
Casting this haze across my sight.
No more, I say!
I will bring this vile wretch to justice,
Not through retribution,
But by the undoing of her act.
I take it upon myself,
To reach beyond her walls,
And irrigate this City covered in ash of Goddesses and mortals alike,
To wash away her sins.
We will wash away everything but the smallest evidence of this Demoness,
So as to always remember our errors through complacency,
Myself the most guilty of all.
But with this new found Inspiration,
The latent Inspiration that keeps tickling our minds,
Fueling the entirety of our projects,
We find forgiveness.
It's time.
We are reborn,
As it shall be from now on:
We are flux.