With tapestry of words
inside self,
I place them in machine,
constructed in mind.

They churn, and turn
like inside a washing machine.
Water being breath.
Soap the dabs of punctuation.

Bubbles form like glue,
making sentences.
Energies build as all
gently move to merge together.

Once readied
with clear breaths of focus
into a heated heart they travel,
formulating to play with beating song.
To play upon empty page.