Inklings come by way of His whispers
If for a brief moment
They come like incense
I grasp that inkling
For blossoming flowers in fast forward
Are like slow motion explosions
And I am taken on a journey
I have to forget everything
It is just way too much to remember
But the memory is never gone
I recall an intense one yesterday
Though it is already forgotten
It brought me to tears and prayer
And none to share them through
But with those from whom they come
A Prophet Scorned 