After a good night's sleep,

whispering ancient words

in an unspoken language

touches my soul,

and begins its journey

to my fingers.

 

I sit and wait

for inspiration.

Then suddenly,

the flow comes.

 

A tide of ideas

that twists my ancestors lives

with what has reached my eyes

and ears throughout the decades

 

I see myself as a child,

I feel my angst

when fighting

for my own sanity

at rough times.

 

I feel the times

when love was wagging me to sleep.

But also I feel

the fear of many lives.

 

I feel the determination

to never give up.

Souls that are hardening in the night.

Freezing soldiers dreaming of home,

the loved.

 

I cry.

Then the pencil starts its dance

and the magic of life shows itself.