To the inspiration,
of the pen holding heavy in my hand.
To the words,
to the images,
magic potions setting solid when they land.
Like the scriptures,
like the verse,
in the blessing and the curse.
Like the violin,
and her heart evoking strings.
The emotions she enables,
and the therapy she brings.
To the channel that’s enabled,
through the gift of divine touch,
where one art piece being graced,
is both more, and not enough.
To feel the blessing of its presence,
and the rapture of design.
To know the guiding force of inspiration,
is the honoured grace of the divine.
‘genius’ by marcellemae