“In troubled times,
I call the muse and take my seat
on quiet, steady ground—
my makeshift flying carpet.

Life hums around me,
its whispers, scents, warmth, and wind
becoming a symphony I breathe into.

Fragments of creation drift past,
and I gather them with open hands.
My spirit rises,
a questing kite into the promising sky,
collecting sparks, whispers, and glimmers
to give birth to something new.”