There is a timelessness
To it.
I forget to eat.
There is this
Place where
Anything else
Outside this moment
Is
Irrelevant.
The pains
And cries
Of my body
Fade into some
Distant horizon
Leaving it far behind
Until it is gone.
There is only
Me and the Muse.
There is only
Expression
However it happens
Through paint
Or poetry
Through holding
Space and time.
There is a
Knowingness
To each next
Right thing
I cannot
Explain.
