Day 154: Adaptation

You call

I adapt

I know not how to ignore the allure of your pull

I sacrifice the moments of inner silence because you reach out to me

Never knowing where you are going to take me

I follow your path and often feel pride in the wake of the sentence you leave behind

You are from me and yet not from me because yours is the path of creation

A marriage of thought-articulated and prose aimed to provide subtle movement of the heart

Is the gift you’ve given me in this legacy relationship we share in the bank of talent bestowed from God

This is my light

This is the passageway of escape where the best of me resides

A secluded alleyway decorated with the graffiti populating my stream of consciousness

This is the element from which I derive the aura of happy that emanates off of my skin in the real letter-less world

Reflected in the shadow of my history is your infamous twenty-six and (the too many to count) offspring that populate my blank writer’s canvas

Yet I know that not all of your children are at my command for I’ve employed some incorrectly despite enjoying their play date on my page

Creativity and language often take a path that is off of the beaten kind

Yet I am still a slave to your call and a frequent visitor to all of those places where you strike

You define me and deliver my self portrait better than any picture I could ever draw

I will never paint an illustration with a brush but I will etch a thought with a pencil or compose a sentence with a keyboard

I am forever indebted to you because I am the artist you defined

I am the puppet of your string of arts and letters

I am material from another source

I am my own best adaptation

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