Thoughts creep and swirl in twisted formation. Some stick on the goo of old brain cells, while others moan from the crippling chains placed by jailers. Thoughts become alphabetic forms that push and shove to form words of expression. Words ooze ever so slowly from the mind to the fingertips. Cobwebs form at the spout of the fountain as the words creep at a snail-like pace to the opening.
At times the fountain is locked up tight and not willing to produce a single drop in the thirsty bucket. The webs thicken and the spout corrodes from outside elements. Darkness permeates the area and the words groan from within the fountain begging to be set free.
A pin light forms. Slowly, ever so slowly, the tangled words are released and sentences begin to form and grow. Stronger now, they burst through the muck and the sludge and race forward with determination and m0xie. The light grows larger, and the string of words race to the light. At train wreck speed full sentences begin to tumble from the spout into the thirsty bucket.
At first the bucket seems to toss them aside and reject them, as if in protest to the long, dark, thirsty nights. Soon, it gives way to resentment and opens its arms to the freshness and clarity the sentences have to offer. It builds a reserve of ideas and thoughts within its confines, producing light and hope with every drop from the spout.
When the bucket is full and the cobwebs washed away, the fountain shuts down as quickly as it began to flow. The bucket continues to hold the light, but is soon replaced with another dark thirsty bucket to await inspiration and the next unchaining of creative thoughts and words to be set free to the light.