10 pm thoughts on writing.

I sit here petting smoky - a creature of lesser intellect, but far greater charm - while fighting to delay my sleep by an hour or so. This early bird schedule is nothing short of miraculous for my creative output, but not much it isn't much fun after 10 pm. I guess writing has sneaked it's way into my life faster than I could set up an easel and palette. I thought occurred to me, something I suspect is close to the truth of all art. The artist must be ready to adapt. The magician must be ready to perform any task his angel demands as an expressive outlet. The Source is much greater than any one single discipline, flowing outwards to the path of easiest translation to the world. This could branch into writing, visual arts, music anything. Each fulfill a role in the greater context of an artist's life. Right now, I must write, the Source compels me.