I felt the writing fever,
My hands shake with,
WORDS.
Pusling, pulsing.
To BREAK FREE,
In a myriad of,
Emotion.
Pure, raw,
Nascense
Ancient,
Instinctive,
Write,write write.
Never ending,
No periods,
A line.
Streching on,
And on,
Scribbling all of,
ME.
On this page,
Filled with a thousand
Voices.
Voices of,
Before,
AFter.
But mostly,
NOW.
Now, in this moment,
My heart.
Attempting to beat itself,
Onto the page,
To sprout winds,
And
SOAR.
Above the house,
With their black shingles,
Houses,
GLOWING with end of summer light,
Past the mountains,
Clouds,
Sky,
To WHERE!?
GOD??!?!
Would he be there?
Would he greet me?
or,
NOTHING.
Just an ever
E X P A N D I NG
Space......
like this line of my hearts words.
SOARING!
But to return.
Not ready to find the oblivion,
The lack of
God.
Purpose.
Reason,
for our MADNESS.
Not ready
To SOAR,
Just to
BEAT!,
Emotions,
Into substance,
Words.
Thousands of voices,
EMOTION!
no words.
One heart.
Beating with
THOUSANDS.
fluttering,
Beating,
No words,
No words,
But never ending...
