There are words disconnected in my head that make complete sense to me, but are not flowing into coherent thought—Distant voices of thunder and bits of lightning dramatic, but not illuminating. Each day they become more distant and in the struggle to hold on to one, I lose another like catching spiderwebs. They stick to me, but are a nuisance in intangible sticky slipperiness—breaking off at the slightest touch and bits and pieces floating away.

If I could just throw them all up in the air and watch them float to the ground, copy the pattern to the page, perhaps I could capture the image… but I think I would have to catch them first.