Inspiration
Waiting
Hands poised delicately
brushing the keys
gripping the pen
Focus wavers and
the blank walls surrounding
tug at your interest
While pondering thoughts
flicker in and out of reach
A fleeting murmur,
not yet an idea
it holds beauty, power
but there are no words
to describe it
It’s a feeling, an emotion
One you long for
but cannot seem to find
With thin lines you can't trace
It is internalized,
existential,
like a maze made
simply to become lost in
And so
The page stays blank
the cursor blinks
expectantly from the screen
As it taunts the swirling threads
Of possibility.
Your hands
slip from the keyboard
drop the pen
tensed in frustration
And suddenly
An idea takes hold-
burning so brightly
It casts shadows across the farthest corners of the mind
It focuses everything
Into pure, intense thought
Those hands
Become just an instrument
Playing out the symphony of the mind
As the words flow across the page
Colors intensify
clarity takes over
and for a moment
you can
see
And just as quickly
the moment passes
leaving you with the beginnings
of something great
A few printed lines or
A blot of smudged ink,
But it means something,
It’s more than what it is-
Born of the thing we call
Inspiration.
