how does one
stand on the outside
creating newness?
what is inspiration
that rises beyond self?
is it a gentle morning sun
filtered through
my covered window
creating a yellow glow
on the old painted sill?
or light blue and purple
of the far window
within my left-side view?
i don’t know,
i don’t trust
this exterior world
that exists without me
but i know i must
else these words
i write in dust
will be blown away
as if they never were.