Inspiration!

Writings:

The love and art of writing is quite different for many people.
Many dread the mere thought of it,
While others would just as well proclaim their passion from the highest steeple.
You might think me crazy for loving to write,
But have you ever taken to chance to read what flows from my fingers?

The same goes for reading.
Many hate it.
They say it bores but they’re misleading.
I believe they hate their own inability to create such beauty,
To even appreciate the skill it takes to simply write.

As I look outside observing the beautiful day,
I feel a sense of inspiration overcome me.
My own personal muse just loves to have her way.
I often wonder what it is about a writer that just fascinates me.
Now I know.

It’s the amazing power to create a whole new world,
Where anything and everything goes.
One can see how lives of others have unfurled.
That’s the purpose of a writer.
To bring their thoughts and ponderings to life with words.

What is a writer without paper and pen?
A person with only thoughts and dreams like everyday people.
And so I must ask again,
What is a writer without paper and pen?
You.

Writing provides a sense of culture,
As does art, music, and acting.
People eat up any of these forms like a vulture.
But the thing with culture is that it’s always changing.
Writing just provides an outlook on different ones older and futuristic ones.

Those who write are so overcome with creativity it just explodes.
As a writer, I can say this explosion is intense.
It veers off in a tangle of roads.
There’s just nothing like the rush,
The pure ecstasy of looking at the finished masterpiece.



Life Is Like...:

Not a box of chocolatesm
But a box of crayons.
No matter where you look,
A different color takes over all senses.
The blues, reds, greens, yellows.
You can see them,
See them for what they are.
You can feel them,
Feel them as you perceive the different textures they encompass.
You can smell them,
Smell them with a nose so used to all these colors, each one develops a signature scent.
You can hear them,
Hear them rejoice with the ability to be its own color.
And you can taste them,
Taste them and experience a whole new delicacy.
That is what life is like,
A colorful delicacy.
For while many lives are seen as strong,
They are just as delicate.


Change:

There's this feeling,
It has overcome me.
Changed the way I look at things,
The way I think about things.
But most importantly,
I have changed.
I used to think I was lost,
I had no idea then.
Since I have been found,
I dare not think of how it was then.

I feel lighter,
As if all of me is floating.
Not of the drug-induced floating,
But the floating of enlightenment.
It happened suddenly.
Where it came from,
No one knows.
Wait.
I know.
It cam from Him.
He has spoken,
And thus it is so.

I feel better.
So far I haven't been as bad,
And I was pretty bad.
Now all those bad and terrible memories,
Embarrass me.
They used to not do that,
Used to be considered some perverse accomplishment.
Too bad they're not.

There is so much to say,
So much to inform.
Not enough time.
A lifetime is too short,
To even fathom the idea,
Of finishing this tale.
A tale of a girl,
Who in the middle of a frowned-upon activity,
Realized this:
God is the Almighty.