The pencil that can no longer draw.
The eraser that can no longer erase.
The table that can no longer stand.
The chair that can no longer support.
The writer that can no longer write.
The dancer that can no longer dance.
The singer that can no longer sing.
The paper that waits in silent patience.
They all ask questions.
They all want answers.
But one question will never be answered.
The question has no answer.
The question has no meaning.
The question is a call.
A call for help.
A call for reassurance.
A call for a purpose.
The question is not simple,
but it is not complicated.
It is not direct,
but it is not open.
It is not searching,
but it is not ignoring.
It just is.
Because what is a writer with no ability to write?
What is a pencil with no ability to draw?
What is an eraser with no ability to erase?
What is a table with no ability to stand?
What is a chair with no ability to support?
What is a singer with no ability to sing?
What is a dancer with no ability to dance?
But they all ask. They all wonder.
What am I to do?