Recreating

As my fingers hold the slick, imperfections
I feel a greater power coursing through my veins.
My fingers begin to ache in the most beautiful way.
I grip onto the copper wire before me and twist it into shapes that come from words unexplained... Unspoken... Unattainable.
I use a tiny tool to manipulate it around the imperfect stone I grasp onto.
I get lost for an hour, which seems like seconds.

To create is to unleash such a powerful force.
Many facets call me to create.
I'm inspired by all that I encounter.
Beautiful, ugly, peaceful and aggravating.

I think back to a tiny apartment,
In an artsy distrcit of my past.
I remember feeling so welcomed,
In a family where otherwise I would've been shunned.
I was surrounded by beauty, peace, and creativity. The atmosphere was so pure.
A teardrop shaped stone was placed in my palm.
Soon to become a beautiful creation.
A gift.
Most meaningful.
I have since searched for it,
I had seen it in my not so distant past, and longed to wear it around my neck...
Breeding healing.
But it is lost in a box- a mixture of anonymous things.
The loss of it has inspired me to create...
In hopes that I will be drawn to finding it.
For it is all I have left, of that moment in my life.