Squeezing water out of rocks

I stopped writing
for over a year
and some months
and a few days

I started writing
when I was 18
and some months
and a few days

It poured out of me then
just gushed out
of holes
like
my head had been a very old mountain
with a glacier
and it was the warmest summer
in 10,000 years

And the words continued to flow
for years
for 6 years
and some months
and a few days

And it was as if
last year
the very old mountain
was now barren
of glacial ice
and what was left behind
was dull grey conglomerate
rock

And no words came
for a year and some months and a few days
nothing came




But today

it felt like something might be left
like i still had a purpose
like i still had something to say

As if despite the dry weather
my will to pour out
will draw water
from dry rocks

Until there is just sand