Blank life like mine

I cannot write because I have no thoughts left, it just all went blank with a hard blow as if my boat of imagination anchored  to the shore was hit by a terrible sea storm. It is destroyed every inch except the one little part but all I am left is with pieces of wood in my hand. I wish I could collect all those pieces back and try to built a new boat but some parts seem to have ferried across the sea, miles away from me. The words that I wrote on the shore are no more there, seems they have been washed away with the waves. They say it's fine to have chaos in life but what kind of chaos is this where your very dear imagination leaves your soul and never returns back. Nothing more than a living dead, nothing more than a picture put up on a frame, more like a story with no apt ending.... But still if i try to built a raft with the left pieces it is possible to fish some imagination from the sea, yes it won't be magnificent like my boat, by the end of the day I may not have enough to feed my mind, my soul but still I would have something.... Which is more than enough to fill a blank life like mine.