Passion

 Worms come out of the woodwork

And the snakes start to sing

They will always sing, but it is up to us to hear it, to make out the melody within the hisses. But one can easily be drowned in the songs, and claw at the noises in their head till their flames are extinguish.

As a writer, you can never shut out the noises that you hear. They are ever present, they are either you downfall or your salvation but there is no middle ground. The best you can do is to transform the snakes into your muses, and pour out yourself onto the piece you are writing.

It is better to burn out than to fade away…

Someone close to me was struggling with the melody he was hearing, it was just a buzz or a hiss but nothing more to his ears. Writing was just putting words on paper and moving on to the next piece of paper. But then he could make out the melody, pick at the notes he was hearing.

What he produced was spectacular.

Out of this melody, he constructed a cemetery to lay to rest the noises, and brought about a change so wonderful, that it created a mixture of feelings. The resonance was as such that the feelings felt are difficult to put to writing here.

 It was his muse,

  The snakes,

   The wolves,

    His passion.