where the writers are
In the hand of Inspiration

Inspiration.

Flower's dust
impregnates
the flavor
of my sweet
memories,
it tastes so
colorful
I feel
I could die.

Inhalation.

I begin to understand
the reason I exist,
and in such delirium
my body rests.

Exhalation.

Color spreads
I am made of sugar,
and as heat melts my heart
I become cotton candy,
flower umbrellas,
and merry rain.

Inspiration,
and it starts
all over again.

 

Original Publication:
http://linaru.org/2008/it-is-inspiration