Creativity

Only one survived until lunchtime.

Sometimes the muse strikes.

In my case my muse was too busy scoffing her face with pie, so not really striking. But there was something in the air, something that actually made the words gel and form in my mind instead of flailing around seeking a home. I've written quite a lot recently, much of which has given a glimpse of the pains I'm going through in the world real world, but proper, creative, words have been trapped in the darkness.

But I am, through disconnecting and recreating myself, finding calm and an acceptance that, well, this is the way it is. And I think this is what woke the inner muse up. Surprisingly, the words appeared on the Central Line.

Less surprisingly, they started with a smile...

A smile
A glance
Those ebony eyes
Warmth exchanged
Through human ties
Making a moment
Joy professed
So little needed
So much with less

That felt better. One of those brief visual exchanges that suddenly makes the underground a nicer place, yes, even the Central Line. A little further on I sat, next to the smiler as it happens, but as I am (a) a wuss and (b) see (a), there was no further exchange. But I did write again.

This time about the swifts that were out in force last night. They were quite stunning to see as they swooped and dove for flies, the impression I got was of the air being almost solid, they barely flapped a wing, rather they looked as if they were riding rails. But in this aerobatic dance I realised something, it was literally about life and death, these astonishing flying machines were doing little more than hunting and killing for food.

Flitting
Swooping
Invisible ground
The Swift
Fly shooting
Darts around
Taking each moment
Feeling each breath
As Gaia expresses
Both life and death

And finally, well, not finally, but finally for now, I reflected on standing looking down on the Limehouse Cut this morning, enjoying the surprising sight of the sun blinding me. I did see, for the first time, a couple of the boats being used for the 2012 games canal service. It'll be nice to see the canal being used regularly as they shuttle from Limehouse, via the Olympic Park, to Tottenham and back again.

Sun glint
Atoning
With blinding light
Detritus
Bemoaning
A wasteful sight
Watching
In silence
And glowing glee
That body of water
Divorced
From the sea