Words flow from my mind, dancing on the page
In front of me.
Twisting flames of music, calling me to join them.
Ideas only half-formed, just waiting to be shared
With anyone who will listen.
Will I finish this? I don't know.
Or will I move on and leave it behind?
The creativity will go out like a spark that has been
Stepped on, only to relight the next time.
It is an interesting process, incomplete and confusing.
Notes and words in my hands, each balancing the other.
Without notes, we would have no melody to go by.
Without words, we would have no song to sing.
I sing for things I've never experienced, and things I
Long to see.
The words make sense to me now, even though they are not personal.
The process that is like no other has finally come to an end.