Perfect Words

There is this thing that happens if you enjoy writing. You’re constantly in search of the right words, the perfect phrase that will communicate this thing you long to say.

Without it that thought, that deed, the occurrence the feeling the lesson or the thing you’re trying learning as you manifest your speech it won’t make it and it might be lost into that ether like a loose leaf carried away by this living breeze.

Perhaps it’ll return to you, perhaps not. Perhaps you’ll see it during a glance in the mirror or humming the first few bars of that song.

But you wanted to capture it, wanted to give it some form like gently moulding clay until it resembles that mental ideal. And each miss is frustrating.

I think I’m there. I’m noticing this absence. Just like running blesses me with a strange physically buzzed clarity I miss the words that sprung to the page and somehow captured the very same thing they meant; just like it the expression for me is a crutch.

Started so many paragraphs but they’ve not been finished, somehow not arrived at a destination I’ve intended. Sometimes it’s like this, those perfect words are fleeting and like everything important in life they have to be given time and striven for, fought for hard.

I realise now there is a deluge of words, a glut of mindful being that are all competing to become an an impression on a page. They’ve interfered with each other, swum across each others paths of sense.

Every chance though this is when I should set it all free. I’ve a long way left to go with many more perfect words yet to decree. Plenty more of this night sky with shimmer of distant stars. Plenty more to observe all while pattering rain.