Where are the words that once teemed so fierce, to strive and break against my lips? Where are the words that thrumming burst from inked fingers to thrive, gleefully, desperately, purposely upon white parchment?

I think they have been subdued into silence, chained by reality and a forlorn weariness. It's a meager fire that once remembers thoughts of golden glory. Can we be two at once, you and I both mentor and student, both learning and leading, both past and future. 

Where is the present? I am tired. But not beaten. I remember whispers, and I remember you.