Hearing your voice caused such a stillness in my head. The characters who bustle about, all talking at once with their needs and wants, fell silent, leaned in and held their breath as though they were witnessing love being created for the first time. My mind is wet with their tears, liquid appreciation for the beauty they experienced with every fallen word, every stroke of sound that caressed their hungry skin.
If you have any compassion, even a smidgen, you’ll give me crumbs that I might soothe their nestling chirps for more, lest I never experience the breath of silence again.
Ohh, how you woo my soul to suffocating heights, pull me into the ether, send me cascading back to earth to plummet watery depths. And I love that whoosh deep in my stomach as I fall, deeper, harder, and faster into your universe, a passing meteor now caught in your orbit. May my face always know your landscape as I glide your periphery, this recipient of your fleeting visits is un-apologetically smitten.
And when my own rotation pulls my eyes away to view the outer regions I am pained to return, eyes seeing only flattened shapes devoid of colour and texture by comparison. Such is the igniting force of your influence that you turn this hapless rock into the sun, liquid heat at my core that has me casting light and warmth in all directions.
Even in my wrath I scorch with inspired passion knowing full well the cost of such energetic expulsions is the death of me. Imploding, I become a great black hole, drawing you into my center, swallowing you whole only to birth you into a new universe of my own creation. There, we spin in giddiness, entranced in each other’s orbit, wrapped in the black silk sheets of our dark nebula.
Yes, inspiration, your fingers are deep in my clay, pulling my mud to beauty. The weight of your fingers soothe the curvature of my words until they align with your vision and obediently, joyfully, I comply.