Poem: One Brush Stroke

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One Brush Stroke

One brush stroke,
then another.
You feel the paint
rather than see it,
aware more of its emotion
than its line or color,
speaking somehow without words,
waiting for the inspiration you lack in the moment,
sure it will come

for there is power in the beginning,
less a setting down on paper
than the opening of a gate.

About this poem

I often do not feel very creative. Often. Most of the time. But I get to work anyway. And in the work, somehow, like magic, the inspiration comes. The trick is to believe in that magic, and begin anyway, even when I don’t feel like it.


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