Running, running for a pen

To write down the inspiration

Before it slips from my hand;

Many of you will understand.

It comes and says “hello” to me,

But if I don’t respond immediately,

It flees until another day

When it visits again in mysterious ways,

Hoping that I’ll come and play.

With things so subjective, its hard to express,

And its hard to, with words, do justice.

But for you creative friends,

You know of what I speak, and I implore you to spend

Time in your pursuits to tend

Those seeds of inspiration.

May they sprout and bear much fruit

As we abide in the Vine, with love as our root,

Showing forth the excellencies

Of Him who has called us and set us free,

The Creator Himself who died for you and me.