friction

A small poem about friction and creativity

Two coarsened ends tug past one another
Sparks cycling off worn bodies which 
Alight into the night sky like tiny fireflies
Growing into ever larger clusters of light.

Then into globes, miniature suns until
They flash out in a grand theatre as supernovae.
Fodder for the creation of unspoken worlds, 
Breathe in the body, note in the song. 

Within the initial resistance, the seed of potentiality
lies dormant, waiting for the catalyst's kiss.
The task is to make space. To sit, allow, ponder, then spill
the words, music, thoughts, life, wonder

All onto the page.