The crispness of the white paper
Under the scratch of my black pen
Its fresh smell filling my nostrils
As I lean in closer
The words roll onto the page
Like a storm rolling in from the sea
Who knows its path or its direction?
All I know is that I will soak in its rains
No restraints, no inhibitions
Just the freedom to write
The freedom to climb aboard the train of thought
And to see where it takes me
Glimpses of the Greater 