To create thoughts, ideas,
Feelings, things shared without boundary.
There is music in the simplicity of silence—
Hands still, heart full, eyes closed.
There are words on the blank page
Waiting, like unpopped popcorn,
To burst across the consciousness and land
In some format that makes sense.
There is beauty unrecognized, but present,
In every object, person, or movement,
Brushing against vision trying to gain attention.  To channel some portion
Of infinite creative force into finite bytes
Comprehensible enough to set imagination soaring.
…And I soar…
Viewing vast vistas with the eyes of my imagination,
Feeling the fantastical flow of
Chords and harmonies and melodies.
Unsung and unplayed, they fill my heart
While my word-wings catch the wind and help me
Float aloft untethered, unbound by time and space.
Ascending I compose. Composing I ascend.
Till beauty and music and words cease…
I cannot help but try.

 

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