It comes in spurts, the words and the visions, sometimes jumbled, and other times clear; Fascinating stories to flesh out on paper, images that haunt us from far and near.
Pick up that pencil and sketch the soul, in phrases both mellifluous and mellow; Continuing to erase, over and over again, until the piece uncovers its intimate flow.
Resting, then wondering if thoughts relent, pausing, then swirling inside your mind; While taking a chance that others will get, the message you've molded and left behind.
A fabulous thing to entertain our gifts, regardless of what the outcome may be; The torture of creativity can rule your heart, yet the process leaves you open and free.