Wednesday, 21 December 2016


My creative spark seems to have taken early retirement. Or perhaps it's on sabbatical. Not so long ago, I felt truly inspired. From around Julyish, both pain and elation, created through love, were the committed companions of creativity. I did not find either to be the greater inspiration. Thus, I believe we can say, that love and all its’ accessories invokes wordy innovation.

When one stops being in love, so ends the poetry. As it was the intensity and loss of romantic love that made my words dance.

All I feel now are memories. At these, I smile. They are tiny ripples on the sands of romance. Gone, yet not forgotten. In part, I thank the man who gave them to me. Although it was my responses to him that I'm most grateful for. I was ready for love. He, on the other hand, was not. That mattered for a while. Then it stopped being important. 

In short, I'm rather pleased that I operate without filter. When love lands in my heart, I'm not trying to side step it. I simply go with the flow. 

Here's to unfiltered. Here's to love. And here's to words. 


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