Newton’s Cradle

My mind is finally being nourished creatively,
Like a Newton’s cradle in motion, I have momentum,
Ideas collide,
A hundred thoughts suddenly fighting for sunlight.

I feel as though I have lingered too long in darkness,
A creative solitary confinement of fatigue,
Working beneath soul-sapping monotony,
The stress of day work loosening its chokehold.

Slowly, surely,
My imagination returns.
I can write, I can create,
I can rebuild the architecture of my mind.

The weight, the weight,
That heavy crushing upon my thoughts,
Has begun to lessen.
That sickly hunger for content, content, content,
Is subsiding.

It feels as though the tide is withdrawing,
Allowing the sands of creativity to breathe.
I know the tide shall return,
But for the first time in a long while,
I will have taken a breath.