Relax . . . take a deep breath . . . breath out . . . Write whatever pops up.
Nothing, no, no, no. The word nothing. My brain has flat lined! How can this be? I thought I had many more years left in me brain! Have I come to the end of the canyon, against the place of no return? I cannot write about looking up where there is only walls leading straight up. I've gratuitously
followed this path to it's demise, please somebody get me old Roy Rogers and his trusty steed Trigger. A rope appears. Roy and Trigger saving me once again. I tie the rope firmly around my midsection, slowly, surely, the palomino without strain, pulls me to safety. I look at the beautiful four legged specimen, a glowing, golden mane blowing about from the stiff southern breeze. Roy packing his six guns, smiling at me. I hug old Roy with all I can muster. Lay my head on the stallions thick neck brushing him gently, feeling power and might, beyond comprehension They've saved me to write again, only blue skies and rolling hills to wander through, searching for the unanswerable answers, to the unanswerable questions. Against all odds a hero appears, asking for nothing seeking nothing. Put upon this earth to be a child's hero. (One never forgets the simplicity of youth.)
Wow what a dream, good feelings run through me body. Saved once again by the power of the mind. Good dreams forever until we meet again. Thanks Roy, Trigger!
HAPPY TRAILS MY FRIENDS UNTIL WE READ AGAIN........................ IS A DREAM MEANINGLESS? I DON'T THINK SO!!!!