Inspiration, Original Poetry by Thomas Martin Saturday


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Where can it be drawn from
if not from the soul force
of the individual

inimitable
transcendent,

a shiny silver coin
that pricks at our deepest dreams

insistent and unyielding,
demanding release
though not made free
until its own time

the birthing,
deep into rich, dark, fertile soil
smell of leaves, earth
lightning and thunder crack

an idea with an attitude
it carries you
so that you may stand
where you have never been

from a great height
holding it high

illumination as with torchlight,
into the fond remembrance of generations.

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