It’s a mystery, the source of all.
The subtle, precious essence,
stirring up creative forces bubbling inside. 

How, where, when, why… ?
Light must come out to greet the Sun. 
Particles collide.

I’m not the only one who loves the flow.

If that’s what rain feels to a tree,
A word, a thought will do, 
to move me from within,
to make me smile,
inspire me to write a verse or three.

A special bond, 
the alchemy called synergy,
it means a world to me.

With gratitude.
To my beloved muse.