The Muse has left the building

It was a while back when it happened. 
She just left one day.
No word that she was leaving.
No note saying why.
No forwarding address.

I'm sure I must have done something to piss her off.
I have no idea what that could have been.
Of course, the male of the species never seems to be aware of the particular moment when that happens.

We only become aware in the silence that follows.

Perhaps I was just too much of a drain on her good nature. I do have a tendency to over do a good thing.

At first I thought, well, she’s taking a little time off. Everybody needs a little space now and then.

After the first week or so, I started looking for her. Then I started to get worried. There was no trace of her anywhere.
 
After a few months, I gave up hope and stopped waiting for her return.
 
More than a year later I have to assume she has found her way to the great hereafter and is never to return.

My Muse is dead. 
Long live the muse.
She was nice while she lasted.

But deep down I know: the muse isn’t only gone, it never existed.
There is no muse.
There never was.
There was only me.

Me making the time to make the words come.  
I am now well aware that the only way to get it back is to make that time again. To take that time in between everything else that is and will be, and force the thoughts from the dark recesses of my mind and out through drowsy finger tips into the wide open world of blogs to be.

Am I really ready yet?
Time will tell.
Laziness is a warm blanket of comfortable nothingness that is hard to pull off in order to greet the cold of creativity.