Creativity cannot of course, be forced
Any more than we can influence the earth,
Sun, moon and stars to move beyond
Their perfectly preordained positions within
The infinite limitations of this ever-expanding universe.
The intangible stuff that pervades us
To continually attempt to stretch
Ourselves beyond current bounds
Is imperceptibly profound. Such as the sound
Of a baby’s cry because it tries
To walk, talk, reach, strive, seek
Everything within his or her sphere.
How far he gets is never clear.
Were made to climb
As music needs rhythm and paint needs brush.
Creativity, no less
Can never be rushed.