Running With Words

Is it possible that I could be running out of words, directions, poetry, prose or at least the expression of words. My mind, my heart, my soul are tired today easing away from thinking stretching back in searching of rest in peace. Each breath I take is deep and long sighing at its intake lingering at its release and waiting momentarily to continue. Words mimic life processes conceiving thoughts at conception birthing at the proper time, nurturing and growing in motion, trepidations at the thresholds. Which direction then to go? Left, right, off to the side, at the fork, with a pad and pen, boldly straight ahead Running forth with words.