too much

creation comes in short bursts
and silence follows
endless quiet dull void
and you feel the destruction become more real
more there
more alive than the living you’ve done
and you’re left
adrift
in a simple place
where you still perceive
but perhaps you feel too much.

and to deal the truth
to toss those cards on the table
to reveal your hand
to allow the shadow to pass you on the street
to deny the brilliance
to deserve a moment where
the idea cannot preserve the reality
to make a fact of several falsities
and redirect all being
may become too hard
and it may become too much.

(if you’ve ever had a period of creative inactivity, you may recognize what I’m talking about here)

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