The hammock of time swings dully
I am caught in a lull,
Displaced but not exactly.
 
Turbulence has ended.
Excitement has yet to arrive,
A no man’s land of living.

Ennui begets acedia.
Boredom cloaks the edges of days.
Exuberance muscled by pique and disenchantment.

Fun is but a distant blur, adventure too much work.
 
Inspiration has fled to another land.
Molasses fingers rein in progress.
Continue the struggle or succumb to terminal lassitude.
In stillness lies the answer.