Inspiration is here

I can almost touch it with my fingertips

It is tangible, bulky, all-encompassing

And yet I must exert patience and moderation

I must disentangle the threads one by one, slowly, carefully

For my body and my mind are not yet ready

To this rush of creative fire


I am eager and impatient to write and write and write

To draw unceasingly from this well, this underground lake

Filling the rivers of my mind with

All the fresh water that has been missing for so long

I want to hear the chant of the waterfall again

And taste the sweetness of this water in my cupped hands

And standing on the bridge of the city of my mind

The barren landscape of the countryside will take life and remember colors

Green orchards and forested lands, as it used to be in times of yore

As water flows before my eyes under my feet

I breathe deeply the evening air and go down into the river to bathe my feet

Eagerly waiting for the promises that the morrow bears