Of writing

I hear a thought

I see a few lines forming

as if writing in the air

my heart is entranced

in the magic of the words

I have to sit down

I just have no other go

the words flow

the lines flow

guiding me from

within and without

forming themselves

on to a blank page

filling it with what is beyond me

like one entrusted with a secret

to be spilled out in parts

I am moved to the call of the word

She rules, I obey

that which writes itself is then writing.