We are set to head out soon and will be gone several days. Frustrated as I have been with waning creativity, or, at least the sort I am satisfied with, I had not intended on another post until we were back, but this came to me earlier today in the processing of my constantly running brain. Almost chucked it, thought of scheduling it for later, but figured, what the hell? Let’s just throw it out there…

Light knifes pink through the horizon.

Routinely, I pick up the

Proverbial pen,

Flip open a fresh page of living

And wonder where to begin.

Some days, there is something 

Incredible that overtakes me,

Lyrics dancing electric on every limb.

Others, my every utterance is like

Gears grinding rust,

Seizing up like a wheel with a bent rim.

I hardly know upon rising

Which will greet my day.

For ability seems to meet me

Only in varying waves.

Exultant movements of creative drive?

Well, desire is always humming somewhere.

But, the actual wherewithal proves 

Far more elusive the longer I’m alive,

The more weight I bear.

Perhaps, this side of me is finishing,

Or so goes the question burrowing 

From deep in my fear.

Yet, my heart aches for replenishing,

To twine out in fresh branches of artistry

For any out there who still will lend an eye or ear…

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