With a meditative mindset
I sit before a pristine
sheet of paper,
the smooth, wooden brush handle
resting on my lip
as I consider
which movements to make
to immortalize in ink
a fleeting thought, or feeling,
or state.
And in that delicate moment
of sweet indecision
before brush-tip, heavy
with pigment,
lands on the blank page
to indelibly seal
from a sure and steady hand
a particular gift
plucked from infinity —
I wait.
