fortress ultimo

the words got stuck again in two lines,he crumbled another paper to the waste bin....the small room is filled with the air smelling weed....the floor full of ash and burned up cigarettes ...
its beyond writer's block for him....its been one year he wrote something....
'am i done?' he asked himself a thousand times....the words became stagnant....and thoughts vanished....
nothing fascinated him anymore....
what will the river do when its water is dried up?
how will the guitar cry when its strings are broken?
how will bird survive if it wings are tied up??
he look into the shelf...'were those awards nails in my coffin?limiting my travelling mind...making me an idol of some ideologies?which fortified me from thinking boundless' .
he rolled another joint to free himself.....now this is also of no use....it just help me to walk back in the same paths I've been travelling.
as Seamus Heaney said in his poem digging....he tried digging deep into his mind for new potatoes...but all he got was the old rotten potatoes that he already used...
he traveled alone for miles far...and returned empty handed....nothing fascinated him anymore...the bloody revolutions,insanity of emotions,sincerity of relations....nothing is creating a scar in his heart to bleed  newness....drugs only enlarged his emptiness...
'its over' the thought loomed over him everyday that passed by....
one fine morning he wake up from the weeded reverie....went in front of the mirror....started cutting down his long hair...shaved his beard.....had a shower after so many days....and then bundled all his awards,books,and every recognition he got.....
he carried every thing to the near field and burned them...with a profound joy in his face looking at the fire he screamed 'let that phase of my life die here,am no longer an high praised intellectual,i wont be discussed anymore,i wont having sleepless nights fighting to find the less traveled ways of human mind...i can live like a normal man....'
he walked straight to a tea shop...and asked the owner..'could i get a job here?'
owner nodded...the rest of his life he served tea ,cleaned the tables,ate the left out food...and slept in the wooden rack peacefully