What can be said about writings, they are intact to me. Something discoverable, I write to uncover it. Words, where do I find them? they are always within me. Clings the letter, they are hidden under my sleeves.
Weaving numerous thoughts days and nights, what is that I knit? Or that I knit, gets me knitted instead? Musings they call it had happened to me, see I'm darning through it, bring me the iron I would like to archive it. Is there anything more than bliss, I feel this it, this it!
When the words are my side when they appear more than the pages, just and placid, I may appear eccentric, I may look self-centric but then who do you know my friend, can mingle like these with me?
No, it ain't a questionnaire nor any forum you think. I'll deviate to turn back, I'll be nudged by my sense to inscribe this way. It's just a sudden urge I try to compose if only I had them with me, with me as my ideals, with me as my dreams, and thy hopes, undying.
#weavingwords#longform#insideout#writetoheal#guiltypleasure#yqmusings#patchworkquilt#knittingthoughts
