Scribble.

Scratch.

Rip.

Ideas thrown at paper before

they are forgotten

lost in a wir of endless thoughts.

Poems.

Stories.

Pictures.

Music.

Flying from

the pen

the pencil

the paint brush

the instrument.

For creativity does not stop a

moment for our hands to catch

up with the mind. Instead it

forges on allowing us only

to grab at a concept before

its gone entirely. The best

arriving when we have

no way in which to hold

them meaning they are lost

till some other fortunate soul

stumbles across them.