Write these things
In the forefront of your head
And criticize later
When you have no clue
What you were thinking
If you dare.
Open the floodgate
Of the pen to the paper
And be damned the results
When, for years, being careful
Begat reams of blank paper
And the idea you can’t anymore.
Believe and stroke;
Think Cat’s arched back
And silky hair throwing sparks,
Altogether, the choir of legacy
Something bright, worthwhile
The curtains of the show that went on.
Froggacuda's Weblog 