It's not writer's block.

It's not the lack of passion.

It's not that I'm not thinking about the future.

It's not that I've forgotten my age.

It's not that I've given up.

But it's getting harder and harder to find the fuel for productivity.

The spirit of creativity is a slippery wisp; the moment I think I've got it in my grasp, it drifts away to be tangled in the worries crowding my mind.

The Adult mustn't ignore the responsibilities of Life. But where, then, is the space for the soul's Dream?

So, I ask: What now?