Prose Poem the Poetic

Words,verbs,adjectives,aimless,past times made present, amalgams of verse unshaped,until imagination's birth bursts from the spring of my maturity to awake,arise as ideas and fly free on imagination's unfettered wings ,blown to and fro to settle where they will with nowhere to hide, buried deep within long forgotten dreams until becoming clear ,as words floating like petals on a stream;a fragrance that lingers within, as a passage of light to my soul, inspiration to make me whole.. delineated as a pattern of thought ,a ribbon of inspiration as a verse. Suh tumultuous discussions within ,these images strive for life just as a new-born wriggles from the womb. I merely provide the mute, as multiplied, thoughts trained by the subconscious becomes a workaday drama.The inner made outer.Inherent originality conceived,perceived,crystallised, beneath the now ..in relief.