The full moon pulls closer and waves of Melancholy tease a merciless shoreSand slowly slips through each crest formingCold and unwanted fingers of indifference.

Craving a story from my past, I focus on this acheWords begin to creep out of every joint, Pieced together by a loose string of remembrance.

The passing sound of the wind gently draws me back, Wings from above beat against all resistance For a moment, I wish to soar, challenging this earthen gravityFor a moment I wish to fall into the breath of the wind and float there.

My writing is a playground for self-examination, self-reflection and philosophical interplay. I debate with myself as I write and the outcome is never predestined. I flirt with new ideas and old tales of wisdom, never really settling into one frame but rather enjoying the entire picture, even the odd brushstrokes and frayed edges. The universe is such a creative space and the joy I feel when floating in this galactic sea of creativity is unmatched by any measure of intelligence we know of.