At times intrinsically words flow.
The words flow to and fro to a predetermined destination they seemingly go.
When they flow intriguingly they go places that are unseen by me.
They take up to mountaintops high above ant high places.
The words run like brooks across rocks in the midst of a meadow.
I go be it fast or slow to just where the word flow takes me.
I go pen to pad until the inspired pencil lead breaks or ink of my pen runs low.
There are highs and lows throughout the flow some words cut but others soothe like ointment applied black and blued purple skins and or hurting souls.
Do not hinder the word flow write boy, write boy.
Someone needs every jot of this writing boy.
The inspirer of the word flow needs a listening ear to channel his inspired message through.
Write boy, write boy.
Write on until the inspiration dissipates and the word flow is gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Do not hinder the word flow. thanks.