Painting

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Sometimes my creative juices freeze

then like a bird I flit and flitter

from one path to another

sit and shiver.

Like a lonely lark.

Sometimes they thaw

but not enough

so the thought is there

but cannot reach from my brain

through my heart

to my hands.. ..

In other times my mind is woken,

colours flow

shapes fly from my fingers

hot sharp ideas stagger me with their invention.

Later, all is quiet again.

The mood has stormed its way through me.

Calm descends and I am lost in fog again.

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