Creation

Latest writings are sort of tumbling out one by one over the next few days. I've been lacking a reasonably fast computer for a while. Though I have a lot of new things to say, I'm trying to compensate by adding my own suspense (bottle-necking output).

There were days of absolute sadness,
The sick feeling that someone has emptied out your belly.
Depression has stolen your constitution, the abstract wonders of your soul.
This sadness demands answers without asking questions.
Sadness gives the ultimatum, and you follow, because you are dependent.
Because you are weakened by the thought of weakness,
Emptied by the notion of greater emptiness to come.

There were days in the middle with lagging mind, the defective attention.
This may be one of those moments, evolving into ages.
The silent minutes,
Inspecting the minute differences in pixels on a screen;
The endless seconds,
Picking at something small and distracting on the wall,
Or scraping at the bottom of your foot.
These days are usually spent alone.

Then there are days of all-encompassing joy.
Oh God, the feeling of joy.
When creativity and inspiration combine
With a feeling of mindlessness, of effortless creation.
Generation of new, crispy ideas that excite
And pop! in the mind like air-bubble-candies.
They release and regenerate perpetually,
And bring a person total completeness,
Which expression through words cannot recreate.
And yet, expression triggers that memory.
And as expression does,
Coaxes the deep breath of motivation.
Inspiring inspiration, until the last expiration.

This is my creation story.

May 2014