UNTOLD

I feel creative juices flowing
Endlessly through my veins
Cyclical-no stopping point,
no getting off the route.
The energy and potential
It's all there inside
But the names and faces don't come.
The adjectives are missing.
The reasons why don't exist.
The juices flow throughout my body,
leaving me unnerved and unsettled.
Mission left unaccomplished.

And then I'm walking in Hanna Hall
and a vivid memory floods my thoughts.
Whether it is real or not is irrelevant.
It feels real-the people are rich with life,
Their love is strong and their story is
original and beautiful.
A tragic ending makes perfect sense
in the timeline of my dreams.
I envision reading an excerpt of
the lesson learned and I see
young children pondering about
the morals they are coming to know.
But the beautiful story in my mind
does not manifest-it dies.
It goes unwritten and is a tiny tragedy itself-
A wound of my intelligence.
It had been beautiful and fluid
In my mind but lacked the
necessary "electricity" to make it happen.
The energy went wasted-
The tale left unfolded.