the dripping of spring, wild weeds and flowers.
the trees come alive again after spilling their color the previous fall.
the exhaustion of it all.
like an artist must feel after a finished painting.
perfections all perfected, completely familiar with every detail.
dreamt about. loved and hated.
in the end, a reconciliation, or acceptance.
otherwise, the trash can.
these creators are a strange breed.
walking on a glowing cloud one day, swimming in mud the next.
memories and anticipation help to bridge until the next inspiration.
ideas, places, people.
thinking in that order, but acting in reverse.
the body does alert the mind.
conditions and circumstance are fate's result, a culmination of a thousand decisions.
free will being like a coin.
then we get to heaven and hell and good and evil, which do exist, but it's a worn topic.
we only have 30 thousand days if we live a long life, don't waste it debating the original fool.
the devil's been discredited.
the good ole days are yet to come.
somehow, this links back to spring dripping.
the appreciation of creation, over and over again.
the beautiful display.
God seems a carefree artist, let it fly, editing to a minimum.
gives validation to the first thought best thought side of creative art.
the imperfections are perfect.