Tonight I could not shake the heaviness in my limbs, my utter inability to sketch.
I prayed at my easel, asking God to bless my work or not, whatever His will.
That's the thing with creativity--you must call it, ask it to stake its claim--and like the Spirit, you have to wait and let it overtake you.
Like the violins quickening their pace in my heart as I am forced, frozen, to feel it filling, flooding, like the words to this song, like the spirit pouring over my taut shoulders, like the ink spilling down the neck of my final sketch...I ask Him to breathe.
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