Sometimes, when emotion grows to great,
There is a need to release.
The well inside is full and overflowing,
And drops of silver light tear.
Take a pen and hold it in your hand,
A touch to a well worn page,
There is a rhythm to the movements inside,
And dark flowers on cream.
Sound escapes your lips, sighing relief;
A softness that brushes fingertips.
It shifts deep in the eternal space within
And ripples, moving forever out.
It spills over in the form of inked figures
With hidden, intricate meaning.
Light dances past in swirling patterns,
Your eyes are lost in thought.
You finger the rose petals in your mind,
The feel of their colored veins,
And taste the sweetness on your breath,
The heavenly flavor of melody.
And with the granted peace you sought,
A perfect masterpiece you create.
It is a song that touches the morning’s light,
Within the haven of your thought.
Moved with a feeling like the rain’s touch,
Tears brush with the softness of it.
All this written on a single, well-worn page,
And that takes my breath away.