The Birth

The Birth

 

Creativity was born that day

Words erupt onto the paper

In a volcanic spew of notes and rhythms

Fire licks its way up my throat

As smoke clouds my eyes

A resurrection of the soul

Began on that fateful day

Now She sings so clearly

So softly

So powerfully that my bones

Ache

And my skin

Crawls

And my scalp

Itches

My fingers twitch longingly

With the need I feel

She takes control of my veins

And gallops through my heart

So that now She stands

For me

 

 

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