i open the blank pages of my mind to fill them
and I wait through the rain or
wade through the growing floods and swelling rivers
which seek to drag me under
the oppression of blind darkness
sometimes inspiration comes suddenly
almost without warning
other times waits and broods
or teases with a thought
flash of a dream
then fades back into the recesses
of my mind’s shadows
waiting patiently for the right moment in time
when experience and dreams converge
in a quiet stream or melding waves
conflicts which can no longer fight off expression
it’s then that the words come
of love or anger
inspiration or wonder
flowing out then from the trickling ink
the pen placed between my fingers
which has awaited the first words
of dawn of awakening of rebirth