Creation

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