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.