Writer's Block

It arrived with the wind.  How else would random events come about?  I sat there in the warmth of a still winters day.  Strange weather it was, but the beauty of the setting sun was breath taking.  It would one hour before the tow truck arrived, but it didn't matter.  I wrote, and I wrote more, and perhaps one day I shall share those words.

I felt free for the first time, sitting there in my car with the door open.  The battery completely dead, and nothing but the wind bringing forth a peaceful sound.  It was a true moment of awakening, and quickly I fall back asleep, returning to the every day routine of life. 

Where is the creativity?  Between school and work, there lies nary a small amount of any.  Hard on oneself is a necessity to refine, and cleanse one to become even more, right?  Or does it just beat you down until you no longer know why you created to begin with?

It arrived with the wind, and with the wind it left.  Silence, it remains.  A recurring nightmare that will haunt every night for eternity. Where are the words?