It Is Always Within a Storm That I Sit down to Write

It is always within a storm that I sit down to write.

One sentence becomes two. Two become three. A short white space ….. ….and there is a sentence again.

It is like two friends walking together, trying to settle into a pattern, a pace, letting their legs say how far, how slow. At some point, a cadence is set. Unique to them alone.

Everything displays harmony.

But it is in the nature of things to drift into disorder. Scattering, changing, being different. But sometimes, somehow, in a brief moment, things come together. They sync, the drifting stops. That is what makes it beautiful.

The riot of leaves and branches arranges itself into a forest.

It is rarely one day or a night that gets everything aligned before it starts to drift apart. It is always a moment.

When things just look done. You can let out that breath you’ve been holding on to for so long, let the pen slip further down your fingers and mark the page where the last word rests.

At that moment, you know. It will never be the same.

Before you know it, you are back there again. One word becomes two. Two become five, lay out a sentence. A sentence becomes two…

And by the time I drop the pen, in that very moment is the calmest I’ll ever be.