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| don't open until... (sketch and image by rmp, that's me) |
EMPTY. She stares in utter disbelief; her heart pounding in her chest. EMPTY. She reaches into the box. Her hand swirls around touching nothing but air. It pauses mid-box, then first touches the bottom before each side within. EMPTY.
So caught in her disbelief, she doesn't notice until her shocked (and empty) hand rests upon her chest. The intense rhythm causes her breath to catch. Stunned, she looks up from the empty box and stares into his knowing eyes.
As his smile reaches his eyes, her heart skips a beat; and suddenly, she knows. From the moment she had met him, her heart had been set free.
Behind the image: In my last post, I mentioned how I dug up an old sketch pad only to find some poems hidden between its pages. I also spoke to my impressive (or not so impressive) talent of drawing. I was inspired to snap some pictures of one or two of my creations and tweaked them a bit before posting them on my photo-tweaking blog (rmpInFocus). Though not so sketchy, this piece spoke to the poetic side and so I snapped it up as well.
A bit of rambling: While yes, this piece in some odd turn of events did sprout from the sketch above, it definitely took on a shape of its own. I'll take help from anywhere I can get it. Still motivation eludes me. Some might equate it to writer's block, but in the case of such an episode one desires to write, but can't. Yes, there is a part of me that does desire to write (wouldn't be here typing this right now if I didn't), but it's not that I can't...I just don't feel inclined to. So why then am I? Because while I feel relatively calm and relaxed (no pressure or anxiety floating about), I can't shake the feeling that if I maintain this lack of inclination, I'll sink into the abyss. And it is summer, there is no reason to deflate in such a fashion.
An aside: Still working on catching up with all my reading. Been pacing myself for fear my lack of motivation might rear its ugly head in that neighborhood as well.
An aside: Still working on catching up with all my reading. Been pacing myself for fear my lack of motivation might rear its ugly head in that neighborhood as well.
Prose vs. Poetry: Poetry is my go-to for a slew of reasons I'll spare you. At first I thought maybe I could allow this particular flow of thoughts to cascade into a poem, but (1) that was way too much work for an unmotivated individual like myself and (2) it felt more prosy to me. [and "no," (2) is not a cop-out for (1).]
