Where's My Book?

I want to write, I want to blog. Something profound, something worth reading. Nothing comes to mind. I want to make a difference with the things I say. Why do I even have a blog if I have nothing to write? What’s the point? To bring glory to God. Am I succeeding? There ought to be tons to write about....why does it not come? I close my eyes, the familiar sound of distant voices. The silent hum of nothingness. Nothingness. That’s exactly what I feel. Nothing to say. Nothing to write. Nothing worth reading. It’s not usually this difficult. Tired? No. Lack of time? No. Then what? Silence. Again nothing. Fingers rub the keys, smoothed with time and use, itching for purpose. Eager to create meaning and substance. Still nothing. Books: food for thought. Maybe that’s the key. Read more books. But how when I always fall asleep? Not sitting on your bed would help, prods the voice inside. Sigh. Coffee? Sure. Quiet music? Maybe. Self discipline? Ouch!! Ok, ok. I get the idea. Perhaps a form of laziness is the problem. The more you read the more you know. The more you know the more to say. It’s worth a shot. Where’s my book?