when I, create, because that's what I do
When I really feel that flow
not from my brain
but from somewhere beoynd that
from somewhere sacred.
I feel nothing and everything
I burn with passion
I feel my body, but not hte world surrounding be
I see the tip of my pen and I
FEEL how it scratches the paper
how it's carefully carressing the curved lines of a dynamic piece
how I, a human, is creating something with a greater purpose
something that's limited to only the chosen ones who "sees"
I get goosebumps.
I get chills, blush, smile, and gets nervous;
I have adrenaline rushingg through my body of sheer desire to see the outcome.
the sensation of creating, of drawing,
of seeing shadows form along the smooth curves of a female hip, or the fine structure springing alive as you create what is an eye, even if animated.
That. that is my reason for living
That is my reason for breathing
That is why I'm still here.