Here for writing

I have forgotten the joy of writing for writing's sake. To just let the words stream out onto the screen. To capture a fraction of the myriad of feelings that fleet within me. So ephemeral that the words are but a weak and choiceless placeholders to what goes within. If it weren't for words, with what else could I capture it? Writing gives me so much joy. Just to write, without an agenda, without bothering about whether anyone will ever read these words, without caring if anyone will even resonate, leave alone like what I write. To write because I can is the sweetest thing that I can do for my soul.  For a long time now, the workings within were too complex, fearsome and downright incomprehensible at times, for me to write. Art, especially colours came to my rescue as the expression was more abstract and unstructured, vis-à-vis writing.  But today, after a very long long time, I am feeling the familiar tug of the words. And here they are, tumbling out at a speed far beyond the