Lost

Sometimes, when I want to write, I can't string two words together. Other times, such as when I can't find a pen, paper, computer, hell my cell phone, the most artful combinations dance around in my head wishing to spill over. And I try so hard to remember, to remember the order, the words, the flow. Sometimes I end up finding the tools, but most of the times the wondrous works slip a away slowly until all I can remember are the first few words. I have to ponder, do all of the greatest works get lost like this? Are we just left with the good works of the greatest word masters? Their true genius just bitter memories of what could have been?