I take note of the letters that trickle into my canals, that create words, that form rivers
That flow freely into my mind.
I watch the words roll from tongue to tongue.
I watch syllables create movements, I watch people become one.
I watch definitions form ideas, and ideas form plots.
Plots that form impressions and impressions that surpass so many past suppressions.
I watch inspiration, generate and with-drawl.
As the crowds stand and applaud.
Moot objections slip away, and dissolve.
Positivity overwhelming, and more become involved.
I watch my own muse enter the room, undetected.
My heart racing, eyes fixed, lips pursed, only I am affected.
Some uncommon modesty shows in my face.
She never visits; I have never seen her face.
Strength is something that I have always known.
But modesty is what I have right here, it seems to be all I could have known.
So I observe. I listen. And I take note.
Note of the letters that trickle into my canals, that create words, that form rivers.
That flow freely into my mind.
And I think.
They seem to underestimate the sound we are able to raise, when we are able to rise
They forgot the power behind words, so perfectly devised.
And one day, I’ll stand and say.
What exactly I was thinking on that day.
When I watched my muse, muse me.
When I felt my own thoughts ensue me.
When the sounds slipped into my ears.
And found nothing, but senseless fear.
I’ll stand and say.
Today is the day.
That I let nothing slip away.
Because the only person holding me back.
Is me……
