Wow. My mind is a blank. The wilderness of my imagination has apparently been tamed. Nada. Nothing. Neither near nor far. The distance from where I stand and the horizon of creative (or even uncreative) thought is measured in inches. Yes, the curve of my Earth is short, and the moon is revolving around next to nothing. Go figure.
For quite a long while I've been, well, inspired... but the forest fires of emotion appear to have burned out. Miles of scorched landscape the only evidence of a thought process once fertile. No real anger to feed the carnivorous musings of pack animals; no real sadness to cut rivers from the Winter melt. Just... nothing.
Ah, well... all good things must end. Wild eventually domesticates. It was a good run.