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.