spark
So you’re an artist huh? A painter? What happens when you look at an empty canvas? I’ll tell you, your senses explode and your emotions transmute in to a technicolor flurry devouring every white space on that page. You’re your own minds puppet and you get caught up in the moment only to step away from your master piece and fall in love with your thoughts, feelings, urges all encapsulated in front of you in primary colors, secondary shades and complementary hues. Hang it on a wall, your senses inspire you.
So you’re a performer are you? A singer? What happens when the curtain pulls away and a thousand plus pupils have you in their center of vision? I’ll tell you, you’re stricken with rigamortus, but only for a moment. Soon you feel that warm reassurance course it’s way thru your veins. When all the lights and tension fade your time to shine is at this juncture, you close your eyes and let the melody flow. You stun all around you and sway the audience with your lull and entice tears of sheer joy, standing ovations ensue. Record it, your heart inspires you.
And you….You’re supposed to be a writer a story teller a poet by your own right. Yet what do you have to show for it? A mountain of balled up papers in the corner so high you give up and digress into insecurity. A million little boulders consisting of forced fluency and broken rhymes. What happens when you pick up a pen and make contact with the paper? I’ll tell you, you fail at what you know best. Diagnosis: writers block, you feel absolutely useless, empty, dry. The world eludes you for the simple fact that you can’t grasp it anymore tangibility is lost with you. Passion awaits you at the end of the labyrinth, so blindly toil and strafe until you fall only to rise again. Find it inside of you and let it out. What inspires you……
So you’re a performer are you? A singer? What happens when the curtain pulls away and a thousand plus pupils have you in their center of vision? I’ll tell you, you’re stricken with rigamortus, but only for a moment. Soon you feel that warm reassurance course it’s way thru your veins. When all the lights and tension fade your time to shine is at this juncture, you close your eyes and let the melody flow. You stun all around you and sway the audience with your lull and entice tears of sheer joy, standing ovations ensue. Record it, your heart inspires you.
And you….You’re supposed to be a writer a story teller a poet by your own right. Yet what do you have to show for it? A mountain of balled up papers in the corner so high you give up and digress into insecurity. A million little boulders consisting of forced fluency and broken rhymes. What happens when you pick up a pen and make contact with the paper? I’ll tell you, you fail at what you know best. Diagnosis: writers block, you feel absolutely useless, empty, dry. The world eludes you for the simple fact that you can’t grasp it anymore tangibility is lost with you. Passion awaits you at the end of the labyrinth, so blindly toil and strafe until you fall only to rise again. Find it inside of you and let it out. What inspires you……