Muse

I’m swept into the realm of my depthless imagination

Cascades of concepts, characters, places

And I weave interdimensional ideas into a single form

A string of thoughts connected by strands of words

 

I cannot pinpoint the origin of this dance

This fast-paced whirl of creativity and language

I just know the words themselves inspire me

With their connotations, inflictions, the way they sound

How they facilitate turns as complex systems of gears

They’re an intricate machine

Seamless

 

An image wrought from spaces and symbols

And what are words

But springs of ingenuity

Reservoirs of wit

Crafted into brilliance and agony and swells of emotion

What are words but keepers of time

Malleable, eternal, shifting to meet the latest dialects yet still holding the same meaning

Words are what bind us together, what anchor us to the past

To the mosaic of humanity

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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