When I see a page, I see notations that dance.
The dance of a pen.
Flowing to an end that is unknown,
Only to the hand that leads the dancing pen.
Frictions and potholes to fix or avoid,
On a road made smooth,
On a road in your mind
That leads the hand
That dances with the pen.
Smooth sailing…rough sailing…
Sometimes on canvas
The pen continues to dance
Stories come alive
Notations come alive
Creations come to life
All to the dance of the pen.
I have no idea what I have written.
I let my pen take the lead.
I let it dance.
Parting question dear reader – are you consciously holding your pen? Or you have no idea what your story contains?