the thoughts in my head are as numerous
as the stars scattered across the sky.
when I brainstorm
rain begins to fall.
inklings of ideas
send shivers down my spine.
I soak up some as possibilities,
throw others away in half a blink.
and then, some days:
a single thread of Lightning
finds its way through the storm,
guiding a handpicked bouquet of ideas
into a colorful tapestry.
it is my Maker,
weaving my words into rocky streams.
stories finding their way onto paper
as they flow from their Mountain source.