Creak

Old muscles creak with disuse, like forgetting lyrics to a song you thought sat etched in your heart. You know there was a time you couldn't go a day without this movement, without this tingle at your fingertips, and now you go weeks without thinking of it. The cruelty eats at you, as you attempt slow steps, attempt a trepidatious stumble, despair at your poor attempts at Creation, you grovel at the gods, grumble at the universe, think why have you forsaken me, the ultimate in absolution. I am not responsible for this collapse, this ruin is not my fault, why did you leave me this way.

I look up at the valley below, dark storm clouds spreading across the emerging plains, a cool wind breaking the heat wave through the pines. In a clearing, a broad, unrepenting rainbow stands straight at attention, reaching for the heavens, unwavering, shimmering. Unasked for, except you asked for it. Except you asked for anything and everything, you yelled at a ghost in the sky, pleaded with the Magical Unknown for just a morsel of enouragement. 

The gods can lead their pawns to water. They cannot move their muscles, too.