I pick up my pen, gaze at it while I twirl it between my fingers. I'm in a creative mood, but the sequence of thoughts elude me. Where do I begin? What do I write? Why can't I catch a fleeting thought and convert it into a topic for my piece? Ah! that's easier said than done!!
These are the manifestations of my thoughts. Thoughts? what thoughts? not one takes concrete shape so how am to give shape to this creative surge?
I think again. Should I write on an aspect of my life? an experience which some one would perhaps, be interested to read about? a poem? an article? what..what...what?
Thoughts gush like water through a narrow pipe. They form a thick,strong flow, but to look for a thin stream within the current, would be like looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack!
Should I write on childhood memories, teenage or manhood? or on a bitter experience I had at school? Ah! what about the heartbreaks that filled my life with dreariness....? but that would be too dull to share!
Aspiring writers have filled their rooms with balls of crumpled sheets of paper. To the passionate writer, a single error in vocabulary or syntax, could find his manuscripts within the confines of the waste paper basket!! Plans and drafts, sketched on endless reams of paper bear witness to his relentless efforts just to get it right. Right? Right? Right for who? The reader who doesn't see the pangs that pierce the heart, the feelings of helplessness, the despair of the creator who spends sleepless nights just to produce a piece of his genius.
Creative muse has always got the artist into a frenzy, into a state far beyond reality, into a manic state of hypnosis. She is a blithe spirit, that's what she is. She flits about whimsically and when she takes flight, she does take her time to wander back into the silent recesses of the mind. She needs the right ambiance, you see, but once she is seduced, she showers her gifts abundantly giving her host a bouquet of treasures that can create masterpieces from the realms of imagination.
It's the search for this blithe spirit that makes the artist escape sanity, elevating his conscience to a higher plane above the harsh world of commonality, levitating his senses beyond his physical being. Genius exists on this strata of existence.
How caught up we are in our struggles and challenges. We were created as the greatest beings to walk upon this beautiful earth but sadly, have reduced ourselves to scum. Genius lies obscured in a world filled with self induced maladies that threaten the very existence of mankind. We are fighting a losing battle for survival on an unforgiving battlefield and yet we wage war upon the less fortunate. Our selfish greed has led us to take more than we have ever needed, bleeding planet earth with a countless number of wounds.
What a species we humans are! It has become ever more plain to see that we were created, along with our greatness, the ability to destroy ourselves. If this weren't so, why have we still not woken up to our serious follies?
We don't need a Judgement Day to bring wrath upon ourselves...this fascinating being, that we know as 'man', has already traveled too far 'into the valley of death'........
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