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[Siren]

My fingers curl around a pen,
yet their motion is stilled.
My thoughts quiver like a wilted bloom,
shaken, yet unable to spill upon
any crumpled canvas.

Through myriad lands my visions roam,
yet as my pen stills to inscribe
my fingers go numb,
and I succumb to a fear
of birthing sweet nothings.

[JustDaniel]

Greetings, my friend.  Your stilled fingers touch mine, and I feel the quivering thoughts... and see them distill on the paper.

My fingers curl around a pen,
[ and oh, so deftly! ]
yet their motion is stilled.
[ as it ought to be, melting into the words in that ethereal space ]
My thoughts quiver like a wilted bloom,
[ and the quivering is rejuvenating, recycling emotion ]
shaken, yet unable to spill upon
[ and yet you have!  The message to yourself is that you cannot, and yet it is one of those lies that we have talked about... It is clear to us that you can... and have, and so very well. ]
any crumpled canvas.
[ and I for one am always glad to view a crumpled canvas from you. ]

Through myriad lands my visions roam,
[ ... so the muse is at work ]
yet as my pen stills to inscribe
[ as indeed it should ]
my fingers go numb,
[ Allow them to! ]
and I succumb to a fear
[ Face the fear, dive into it, come up on the other side... as into an ocean wave; it is not your enemy, but will buoy you up. ]
of birthing sweet nothings.
[ My dear friend!  Sweet nothings are some of the best entities this side of heaven! Fear them not! ]

Keep sharing notings like this one any time, Ghalia!

stilled in the Light, Daniel