Creation

My soul vibrates
Longing to be a conduit for creation 
The spark burns high and hot
My hands long to be covered in
Ink
Paint
Pastels
To fill blank pages with worlds
That only exist in the nebula inside me
Demanding to birth a thousand stars
Urgent and consuming
I long to surrender to the deflagration 
Of creative energy
Igniting a conflagration 
Leaving me empty and sated
Surrounded by pages filled with words 
Dipped in vivid colors and
Complex textures
Tangible, living pieces of me
Like so many falling leaves in autumn

-gws