Mind -> Hand

I recently recall a certain recognition. A recognition that I truly miss writing, because I'm even jotting down notes and I feel like rocks are being lifted off of my shoulders.

I can feel my hand yearning to coalesce with my mind. My psyche has an appetite, a thirst, that only a stanza can satiate. An emittance of goosebumps exudes from my spine. I can hear an intense recollection, a stampede of thoughts, preparing themselves for a new world. My notebook. My vitality suddenly revamps into an anecdote.