Poetry and a spontaneously creative act that you know has something to say.
It speaks and it breaths and needs to be released.
The ears ring, the mind is tired but the will, the desire to play that clarinet lives and drives, the fire within, that life, harness that wind and sail.
A flowing line, a well timed bell, seething desire for whom to tell....
Why wipe the slate clean and forget what was said? Capture the moment and stake your claim, on the green meadows we long to tread, in this time, we long indeed.
We are catapulted into light and lest we forget the desire that eats at our fat, the sinews long to claim a place at your side.