When moments of creativity spark at
The best and worst of times
In the coldest hours when my body acts
As a moving collection of flimsy nerves,
Brittle bone and sluggish blood
Or when my spirit and body reach the
ever-escaping point of total security
in the stability of my life thus far
I've grown to take hold of my lowest moments
As opportunities to craft my best works
I keep these cataclysmic emotions with me,
Perched on my shoulder, beady eyes watching
The grip on their curled talons gets tighter
if the outcome is worth telling you about
