The pen gives.
Thoughts made manifest; ideas turned from simple wisps of smoke into concrete patterns broken down into letters and sounds.
Where does it take me?
I have no idea.
I think, therefore I write. Right now I write down these thoughts as they throttle through my consciousness. I must confess, I have no idea what I’m meant to be saying. But there’s no light or day in my brain so when the sun shines I play in the hay of words till they’re tumbling out my ears and down my fingers.
*chuckle* what am I saying?