Brooke Gale LouvieR

so it begins

just like this

a way that feels insignificant

(just like all great things)

a girl, typing on a keyboard

on a bleak January day

and her cup of coffee sits beside her, of course

her dog lays at her feet

it is audibly quiet

and mentally loud

and so she types

desperately needing something to make sense

for distractions to remain flung aside

for creativity to take over

this is the hard rocky ground before you strike water

these first few

(Sentences. Paragraphs. Pages. Chapters. Books.)

maybe the deeper and more powerful, the cleaner and more pure the water flow,

the more you must dig

and you must

otherwise, the water will be muddy

the color of her coffee that lays untouched

because even the act of lifting up the heavy mug to her lips may interrupt the flow

(This is such a weird thing)

to be connected and attached to this idea that’s not fully yours

to stress and strain and feel insignificant and incapable only to come back to the same place:

Writing is really just moving yourself out of the way so

Something else can speak through you

so why should I worry?

why should I fear?

why shouldn’t I just trust You

the voice

creativity Himself