Where once my mind was barren I suddenly find it dripping with an abundance of color that floods like the juice of a pommegranate through the crevices of my mind, leaving its sweet stain.
It is as if my days are suddenly living, breathing, eating poetry. Images are more vivid, and the world is strewn with a beauty so truthful that it is almost too painful to bear.
As I write, my dear sweet Kavi meanders about my ankles, a warm presance that does much to weave the many successions of thought that flood my brain into the tapestry of creation, a solid foundation of word and whim.
And so I write... because I must write, for the oceanic abundance of my soul cannot be contained. It must leak to paper, spill over into creation.
I must write.
Reply
