I’d lost all my strength
The natural urge to create
My apartment became a mess
Even the ants left.
The spark to create was lost
The art that reignites my heart
Giving birth to what I believed
Had died and felt abandoned
On the stage of my masculine agency
LIFE became optional
LIVING was perfunctory
I GAVE nothing in return
FOR the kindness of others
REAPING emptiness and
SADNESS . . . 
Finally awoken from this dream a
Dream of a sad, burrowed fog that
Lifted as my line-of-sight
Opened towards a doorway
Where I see all of you, your visage like 
Comrades-in-arms gathering
At dawn, like sunlight-as-water 
Spilling across the field of a new day.
© K. James Ribble