my voice is gone; my thoughts have flown away. i find my mind devoid of things to say, and yet the interest still exists in me to set afire the words i cannot see. but how - i ask - can one open a cage? and how can one read from an empty page? i try too hard and yet i see the truth: i've lost the flow'r that sprouted in my youth. what once was watered each and every day has been allowed to wither and decay. perhaps if i endure my grating style, resolve to make my phrases more worthwhile, lock insecurities outside the gate, i'll return to younger self at later date.