Inspiration

Ink is pulsing throughout my veins,
To seep into the page
And releasing from captivity,
My feelings from their cage.

Even when the words cannot flow,
There’re inspired songs among
The rhythm of the birds and beasts,
That thrives in nature's throng.

Beneath the shadowed forest boughs,
I rest on benches that
Are carved by the travelling wind,
Where centuries have sat.

By always taking paths unpaved,
I find the verse to write
Of nature or of love and loss,
While dusk drips into night.

The sky paints a new nebula,
As it spills off her brush
And splash onto the words I weave,
That makes the evening blush.