Poetry

      Words tumble inside my head, each fighting for a chance to be used.  Inspiration flashes and a phrase comes together, eager to be written.  But still, I struggle.  In my heart I know what should be written, but my mind can't grasp the message.  I need to relax.  Connect.  Sitting back, I close my eyes and let the words come.  At first, confusion prevails.  But gradually, softly, my heart whispers a thought my mind can finally understand.  From it sprouts a rhyme, which blossoms into a complete message.  Suddenly the reservoir is broken.  Words and rhymes flow freely, washing over my consciousness and spilling onto the page.  My pencil makes the last mark and I read over it all once more.  Almost perfect.  A few minor edits, and it's finished.  My heart has spoken, and it is beautiful.