Lord knows, we all grow.

I seem to grow in fits and starts.

Some days I flourish and flow.

Certain music leads my thoughts to certainty and confirmation.

Endeavors ring true and inspire further.

Then sometimes, days at a time, halting insecurities inhibit the game.

The next move evades me.

A purpose for doing disappears, confused.

The textures of the quest shine, then muddle.

They skitter and shake.

The metaphors mix.

The materials and tools rattle in the drawers and on the shelves.

The notebooks and keys linger awaiting the fingers to fly.

The nibs rust and inks dry.

The dreams color the life.

The music stirs the heart and the growth continues.