I find myself in an unfamiliar landscape of late. A land of ecstasy and confusion, joy and doubt, dread and pleasure. My footing uneven, I can’t keep a grip on the words. I begin to gather them, but then take a step and the ground rises or falls and they scatter.
It’s a land the borders of which I once explored. Never before had anyone tempted me as far inside as she has done though. So while in the past I had developed the ability to assemble the words, even those meager skills prove useless in this more uneven territory.
Had I the advantage of an unchanging landscape, I might have mastered it by now. There is a constant flux about it though, a shifting and changing. Peaks become valleys and valleys thrust up into the heavens. A moment after a step on an upward slope I find myself scrambling for purchase to stop my fall into a crevice.
Oh but when I do find myself at the top of a peak, when I have the whole of the land to survey, when I am breathing that rare air, I know with the grandest certainty why I am here. I know that I would rather be here than on the most level ground. For though I could spin words like gold there, I know that when I acclimate myself to this land, my output shall rival that of the greatest wordsmiths. And, of equal import, she will be at my side.