I have to write my way out of it

Whatever it is I have to find my way back by writing my way out of it. As my mind turns, my body girds and my whole being becomes a weopan against whatever it is I'm facing. The problems come, as sure as the world keeps turning. Days of repetition, intermittent lightning of inspiration. Gnosis seeping through the dread, into my mind, brisling through my bones. Electricity of meaning, keeping me alive.