"Maybe that's It?"

You plunge into the maelstrom. You give your all. You feel like you are totally swallowed up by a higher power. You tangle with the sound and fury and you succumb to the void. Think: Jonah and the whale. It's that consuming. You find yourself buried in the dark. Later, the clouds part, you emerge back into the light feeling brittle, tired, wrung out, totally empty, depleted, deflated. Broken. You wonder: How to conjure up that energy once again? Will I ever rise again? There are hours of doubt, "Maybe that's it?" A dead-end. There is no conjuring. You can't demand an energy re-fill. Instead, you wrap yourself up like a mummy, you listen to music,  you fortify yourself with a good meal, you sink into a long, dead-man's deep-sleep. In the morning you fill yourself with coffee and yes, there is a slim shaft of light striking you smack dab in the middle of your solar plexus. "Energy is Eternal Delight."  Yes. Of course. Damn the torpedos.