The words hang thickly above my hand ?oscillating feverishly with limitless possibility. ?As the words begin to whip around in a cyclone ?of pure creation?. My hand begins to tremble as it staggers to ?keep pace with their dizzying entrance into this reality. ?The powerful words.?The phrases of iron ?and sentences of stone ?free fall into my hand to be ?released in the heavy darkness of each droplet of ink. ?The frivolous words.?The phrases of fancy ?and the plastic paragraphs ?fall away from the pen to rejoin the primordial well of imagination to await the right pen and hand to call them forth to their true purpose.