I am able to sit in silence for hours and the perfect words will become an image in my head. This pattern having no rhyme or reason appearing without effort. Ignore the call to puts the words into paper. The pattern repeating itself, but I make the conscious choice not to follow. By the time, I pick up the pen the words only become memories, but there is no trace remaining. Sending my mind into a tailspin contemplating if the words ever existed in the first place.
It’s like listening to a song on repeat fifty times and still having the inability to remember the lyrics. All you have facing you is the emotion evoked while listening to the lyrics. The emotion becoming impossible to forget because it embeds itself into your soul. What you hear is playing at the frequency of your soul. Making an imprint similar to the one found in the groove of an album,rotating clockwise, playing the lyrics. Playing the words.
The Bee Keeper 