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How it started

  It began with just one tiny black dot. Drip. Right upon the page.  I watched it grow. I watched it spread across my paper, like wings in flight, black India ink; it had a life of its own but not like those other fables; this one?  opened ….the angle  of itself….? then, like a lightspeed wand of colors, I saw all in lines a kind of a glittering stairway ….? I sat back in my chair. Looked at my own nib…. no, the one I’ve had for years looked fine so….what was. Pushed back my chair and leaned over to put my head between my knees, took deep breaths deciding I was hallucinating from some weird reason. Was I ill? Rubbed my eyes and looked again …. and there within the prisms of angled light a spark jumped clear off my hot press watercolor paper. I touched my head to check for fever but, no—more cool than …. But what happened next? Another spark shot and lit something on fire!  “I’m not dreaming….” I said aloud to the empty room 
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