The Freedom of Writing

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

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