Free flowing thoughts that dance around in my head all day can come together on a blank page, blank screen, blank something. Spewing out sentences and structure and stanza.
Trying to make sense of the world I live in. The one that moves, ebbs, floats cascades all around me. Or the one that is rooted, stuck, cemented at my feet. Fingers become my tool. Striking keys or grasping the pen, pencil, whatever I can find.
So much paper out there, waiting to be scribbled on, jotted on...wasting time. Words come out! Creative expression and simple communique.
Vocabulary tested, not wanting to bore the reader with dull descriptions of the blue lake against the tall mountain - yawn.
The glassy lake beneath the watchful peaks? Yawn.
The serene water reflects the majestic heights. Yawn.
The lake begins to swallow the mountains. The shallow water looks hungry. Its glassy eyes have a perfect reflection of the stalwart, uncaring mountains. If it is concerned of how ravenous the lake is, it never lets on. Just stares straight ahead. Pretending not to notice the salivating ripples that form each time even the tiniest rock finds its way into the starving water below.