puzzled.

Where does the brilliance come from?

Those who came before us
took their talents and made
something beautiful.

Yet,
I cant even produce the
very thought of something
worth noting.

No matter the sensation,
the motivation,
the stimulation,
the picture perfect
compilation just flutters
together in one big mess.

like fragments of
shattered glass,
taunting my mind
with their reflection.

Striking in their
own tragically flawed
way; Yet incomplete
and lost.

If only I could take
the jigsaw and
put something
together.

If only I could
mold the ideas,
and form something
collectively stunning.