The Frozen Tin Man

I haven't written in ages. I fell like the Tin Man, in the beginning of the Wizard of Oz. I am frozen in time, with a job that so long ago I was meant to carry out but the stress of life acted like rain and froze my body in the middle of great achievement and I became nothing but a has-been, an old relic and nothing of my former self.

The aches and pains of trying to reconnect with what I was once so good at, groan with an audible sound. The ideas no longer sputter to life at the touch of a thought and the joints that once exploded with visualizations lost in time lay fast asleep not knowing how to do what they do best, not knowing how to be told... not knowing how to come to life.

Yet this Tin Man can rebuild. It will take effort, hours, tears and constant learning but it can be done. Eventually those pieces of myself will move again. Eventually I can walk in the world of letters and words, I will be able to tear down trees full of information and dissect them into stories of great wonder and awe. I will one day retouch the realm of everything... this interconnectedness with the world around me, where words come to me without conscious thought and ideas are just meant to be born and misconceptions meant to be torn down with my axe.

I may need an oil can of new ideas. I may need scraps of paper thrown into the fire as my writing groans with uneasiness from so long of not using it. But eventually those moans will turn into whimpers and eventually those too can fade.