Slowly it returns. Someone tied a knot in me once, stemming everything, stopping the fresh salt-scented air meaning more than just the sea. Was it me? But now, slowly, it returns, much darker than before. And I know I must put it all towards a good cause. Shepherd the sheep to still bleat and baa and call. Someone made the sacrifices for me, putting everything in place. This person, this cause – neither are here. This spinning wheel and this comfy cage, this is not the rolling wilderness of before. I cannot smell the universe from here. My will must out.