A letter to the lonely bird
The wind ruffles your hair
As you gaze at the sky.
It’s as blue as an undisturbed pond
With orange paint strokes.
You wish you could slip into that pond
Without the pond rippling upon your entry.
You desire to swim alongside the fish,
To ribbit with the frog
To meditate in the stillness of
The pond
Yet instead you’re in a building filled with
Walking humans,
Gossiping people,
And you wish to escape
By grabbing the wind’s coat tails to visit the pond.
That is your peace
Watering the brain
Pluck the pencil from the case
Clouds of ideas begin to form in your mind
Your pencil, the hands embrace
The string of ideas begins to unwind
The lead is pressed to the paper, they lack personal space
The thoughts become more refined
A line is etched into the paper, quite the slow pace
An idea is taking shape, with your expectations its aligned
The pencil waters your brain, leaving a clear trace
That your creativity is a force to be reckoned with
