Insiration flows like a tap.
Sometimes in a rush, eager to go somewhere, to be fully formed
other times slow, deliberate, thoughtful, unsure.
My inspiration comes often at night
carving an uneven path through sleepy thoughts
half formed, half created by a lethargic brain.


My inspiration comes at her own pace
days and days of white paper and no ink.
Other days ink but no paper.
Heedless of my frustration.

Words and images that I have never experienced or touched
but they are real.
Sometimes with the sharpness of a teacher, I learn, always.
My inspiration is always in progress. I understand only part of
what I have created.

But I keep on learning.
And my inspiration keeps on flowing.
Sometimes in a rush and sometimes quietly.
I just have to listen.