Given often to poetic speech,
by Brian Hinckley
I sometimes forget the subject.
I think in flowery prose,
leading my words to be less direct.
When I write,
my thoughts form perfect.
My imagination explodes,
my passions begin to connect.
Driving beyond conventional thought,
my prose become heated.
Faster they burn to the page,
my fire never becoming depleted.
I live in a world constantly in flux,
music and prose dance about me.
My muse guides every thought,
constantly whispering 'Set me free'.