Energy cannot be destroyed or created
It transforms. It is transferred.
Inspiration is like energy
An uninspired poet sits across a blank sheet.
Inside a dried forest, on a stump of a tree.
Staring at the glazing sun for inspiration.
Staring at his cigarette with introspection.
He lights. It burns. It combusts.
Its burns him alive. It engulfs.
The forest fire.
Several lives are lost and also a dear friend.
It instigates another author to write furiously.
With fact and fiction of a forest fire.
That helped him to be inspired,
To travel the world with his novel
Buried by a shovel.
Under the pages is his spirit, his energy.
The energy shook the masses.
The energy of the forest.
Was reborn, adapted, transferred and transformed.
Words and metaphors were now as visual as it got.
A film was shot.
Trees of colours, black, white, yellow and brown accepted the green.
The universal green,
And the green blossomed feeding hungry children.
Giving them energy to be inspired.
The asthmatic son
Who was deprived of the green.
Because his father was an uninspired poet who died young.
Watched this film,
To be inspired and energised to plant a tree
Until it was a forest that you’d see.
But one sunny day, he’d come across his father’s grave.
A father he had never met since he couldn’t have been saved.
Overwhelmed by emotion, he sat on a stump.
Weak, his energy was drained by the sun.
Energy transferred and transformed.
As his inspiration faded away
Tears mingled with sweat.
He pulled out a cigarette
And then there was fire.
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