Gemotions

He found it folded neatly inside a favorite book of poetry. "Write a poem." The words seemed to reverberate in the quiet room. He sat down on the bed, a feeling of stillness washing over him.

His usual drive, his ambition to conquer the world, had deserted him. All he could feel was… the absence of it. He felt the soft texture of the sheets on his skin. Outside, the wind rustled through the leaves of the trees. He had no desire to move, to challenge, to strive. He just breathed. He just was.