@gutenberg_org@mastodon.social "The writer stares with glassy eyes — Defies the empty page, His beard is white, his face is lined And streaked with tears of rage. Thirty years ago, how the words would flow With passion and precision, But now his mind is dark and dulled By sickness and indecision And he stares out the kitchen door Where the sun will rise no more…" Rush - Losing It - Signals - 1982