This Prose Has No Title


I know not where the words come from.
They just float around in my head.
They become a thought.
An Idea that comes from nowhere.

I write them down and they take form.
I read them and do not understand how I did it.
Not that they are great but because they actually say something.
And they come from nowhere.

A love, a life, a day, a week, or something from the past.
They float around until they meet.
Then they flow to my fingers where they are given to you.
And I know not where they come from.

They amaze me.
They amuse me.
They confuse me.
They give me strength.

And still they come from nowhere.
From experience to what the heart feels.
And I know not where they come from.

And yet, here they are.
Here you are.
Here I am.
Writing once again.

And still they come from nowhere.

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2 thoughts on “This Prose Has No Title

  1. Your words say so much with even more in the way it is written! Nicely done!

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