Distances

There is a distance between my consciousness and my hands. Between my consciousness and the subject is an idea. It exists somewhere where everything has already happened, but in a haze or too instantly. It must become clear, must be seen, realized. Distance… Sometimes, I think, I feel it, I feel its importance, in the very fact of overcoming it, when the whole air is saturated with the voice of inspiration that controls the hand. And maybe if I stop, there will be only emptiness, a broken thread… How to control an idea? Do not lose it among the noise of the streets, mountains of tasks and unwashed dishes? Eventually everything will be completed. But will I accept my power over my hands, will I be open to all opportunities to create my own, and most importantly, will I be able to keep up with what motivates me to seek further?