Frisks

Erykah Badu caresses the night as the brisk wind blows faintly. A slight frisk at the tip of my fingers urges me impatiently. “What do you have to say today?” I wonder. With a slight pause, I wait to engage in the long dialogue, but nothing. Erykah insists on how “good it is”. Right now, I don’t feel it. Still, my fingers await to type, but there’s nothing to write. I suppose this is how some days feel as a writer. Sometimes, it’s better to listen to music without expecting to feel or express it in any way. While I don’t know what I want to write, I’m grateful for words. And even though they’ve sometimes failed me, they are the reason I’ve succeeded. I’ve realised through this art who I am and who I do not want to be. I may not know what I want to write about now, but I know that I want to keep writing forever. Sometimes the frisks are necessary to keep the passion alive.

~A Mere thought