This one’s on me

Sing for me a word song, he said. One of those magical ones you craft with the music of your keyboard as the accompaniment. Write for me the the words that would capture the magic of being freed from constraints and limitations, to let the mind roam as free as the fingers do on the keyboard as the words themselves come to your fingers.

Is it our fingers that write and think or is it our thoughts and feelings? Can the words flow from the touch of the typist staring unseeingly beyond the screen? And, if they do, as I am doing now even as these words form on my screen without my watchful eye, are they coming as the response to the unspoken senses I am trying to capture by letting my idle mind roam free while the fingers do their own work?


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