I am a creator. I’ve never said that before – it sounds a bit pretentious or boastful. Yet when I weave abstract words together with other less dramatic phrases and humble language, it’s possible to create a piece of written art.
Words that mean little individually, assume power or splendour once blended together in thoughtful arrangement. A message is communicated to willing readers. The style and theme of the piece makes each one unique.
Like the ingredients of a recipe, on their own words may not be very palatable. Brought together by the skillful hands of a chef, they transform into something irresistible. Words may not be tasty but it’s possible to eagerly consume a finished piece of poetry or prose and feel satisfied afterwards.*
Sometimes I question why creativity strikes in the middle of the night. Its 2.16 am. I can’t help when words start to take flight. I can either resist their power or I can soar. Words are transported from the recesses of my mind to the forefront of my keyboard. At best – flowing together in literary harmony; at worst – still capable of elliciting a response or an emotion.
Some may call this psychobabble. I call it a reflection of my Creator working through both my mind and my fingertips. The compelling urge to write has free reign as I choose to ride the wings of creativity and allow the written word to have its way with me. Hoping that the outcome may produce something of worth. Certain that I’ve used far too many metaphors in this piece!
*One such work of art that thoroughly moved me and filled my soul is the novel by Brandon Clements – Every Bush Is Burning