River of Uncommon Thoughts

 

In the wee hours of the morning 

or at the most inopportune times, 

thoughts come and go, 

making impressions in your mind. 

Catalysts of creativity 

or catalysts within, 

they undulate, 

tall grass bedding the wind. 

The separation between fiction becomes diurnal. 

Time is of the essence, 

though thoughts are eternal. 

When will creativity arrive?

That much is not certain.

Creativity is but a mistress,

Closing the curtain. 

 

~ Inci Jones Artist ~