It’s a mist that materializes
From the depths of thin air
And seeps through the ears
To the corners of the mind
Where it nestles deep
In peaceful arms of thoughts
Waiting for that day
One day that you’ll find
It waiting
Waiting
Patiently waiting
To be spilled out in ink
In your fervent creating
When the mist has swelled greater
Into an angry storm
And can rain through the hands
Of the weary and worn
That’ve been waiting
Waiting
For the lightning to strike
The thunder’s been booming
But they’ve yet to see light
They’ve only heard stories
Of the storm’s boundless might
Patches of mist
Wait still in the brain
Growing and waiting
To be freed from the chains
Of Unsure and Debating
To be part of Creating
It’s been waiting
That mist
That is called Inspiration
The mother of Creation
The unspoken declaration
It is waiting
I just kind of wrote this poem on a whim. I wasn't really feeling inspired about anything, so I wrote a poem about inspiration. Any advice on how I should break up these lines into stanzas or make this better would be greatly appreciated.
And by the way, I did publish this the proper way on YWS. Here's the link: Inspiration
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