Words flow
inundate the page,
a swirling flood, turbulence
on the flat sheet.
I am attacked, the vice
of indecision clamps
my mind, the pressure
intense, the pain spiritual.
The battle rages, the
vultures circle, I succumb.
Suddenly, all is quiet,
I’m alone on the page
surrounded by the
remnants of the conflict.
I rise and collect the words
laying them in lines like
casualties after the battle.
But, now, the words come
alive. They sing the song
of truth. I lie down
exhausted and sleep.
The words surround
me and keep me warm.