Being in a floodplain is like sitting down in a bathtub.
One man gathers what another man spills
The storyteller makes no choice, soon you will not hear his voice, his job is to shed light, and not to master
Let my inspiration flow, in token lines suggesting rhythm, that will not forsake me, till my tale is told and done.
The sky was yellow and the sun was blue.
Inspiration, move me brightly, light the song with sense and color, hold away despair