The source that feeds me
Published in
1 min readMar 19, 2018
When the idea presents itself
like a hazy notion, almost an illusionist
but it wants you to pay
attention to it nonetheless.
A melody that keeps jingling in your head,
words that keep coming back for more
until you and the idea are saturated
with each other and very
much in love but everything else is
still unclear.
In days long gone they used to call it
a muse or a daemon
I will call it my broad stream
slowly carrying me out to sea.
I don’t know the source that feeds me.
I do know my task is to trust it
- and I do.
