Write again. Write again! It was long past time. But no voices called as long ago to be placed down on blank white paper; longing, pleading to be brought to life. No scenes lingered insistently in her mind until their beauty and realty were captured in ink.
Instead there lived in her mind questions. Questions demanding answers she couldn’t find couldn’t even rightly look for on her own. Now that she shared her life with the man of her dreams, her dreams were finding they had to be adjusted. He no longer stood in the shadows of her imagination conforming to the mood and dream of the hour. Now flesh and blood had dreams of his own, exciting dream that added depth and breadth to her own dreams with out stealing them away. No, he was not the problem. He was the hope.
It was her old nemesis, the same enemy, which had afflicted her with confusion and befuddlement her whole life. Reality. Call it circumstances, call it life, the true name is Reality. Life, not as we perceive it should be, but as it is. Reality flitted through her mind taunting her to solve the mystery of what it would throw at her next and what would be the wisest response no matter the challenge. And so reality laughed as it lead her to think, not of reality itself, but of thousands of imaginary future realities and never got her anywhere.
But no more! No more! The pen in her hand she knew if she could but call to life something that was not, Reality could be left far behind her for a time. Freeing her to explore a world she completely understood. Allowing her to see Reality more clearly when she returned to it. Allowing her to wait till he returned and held her hand as they wondered the wilderness of possibilities together.
And yet… yet nothing came. Her pen moved. Ink in delicate lines spread across the paper forever robbing it of anything but the possibility she then granted it. Words formed, sentences developed… And yet, all that appeared was Reality.