This Made Sense to Me...

If I were to sit down right now, in the happy-go-lucky mood that I am in, and try to write a poem, it would come out something along the lines of "roses are red, violets are blue..." I'm not saying that I can't write; I could write a short story with no problem, but poetic language seems to come to me only when I am extremely sad. I avoided using the word depressed because I don't think I am a depressed person. I am usually in a fabulous mood, sometimes stressed, but not depressed. Unfortunately, when I am sad (for whatever reason), I am really sad, and it is in those times when I can write (good) poetry. The language erupts from me. It eludes to the idea that depression is or opens us up to an altered state of consciousness; it allows ideas that are not readily accepted or grasped to be embraced. Or is it the pure emotion that allows for the language? I used to think it was the latter.
I already shared with everyone my *previous experiences*. During those experiences, I found myself thinking in poetic terms. I was well aware of the fact. I was actually completely astounded by my own thoughts. I would have never imagined myself piecing together the phrases that were running through my mind. The horrible thing was: they were there, and then they were gone. The thoughts absolutely raced through my mind. Some, I think, were adaptations of things I had heard before, but some were original. I wish that I would have written them down because I can not remember the specific thoughts, but I could not bring myself to sit and write them down. The idea of sitting at a desk or table was awkward. The only thought I can remember was something along the lines of "the most ingenius minds I have ever known were plagued by the most persistant demons." I'm not sure if I had heard that somewhere and was just focusing on it, or if I composed it. Regardless, it seems like a very interesting thing to have thought considering the ideas that we are discussing. Relating this back to my experiences with poetry, does this support the idea that depression is an altered state of consciousness, that it opens the mind to something different? Along the same lines, Huxley had said that he was terrified by the vastness of the ideas he encountered when high on mescalin. So do certain experiences open the mind to something else and depression comes simply from a fear of a greater understanding? Are creative people often found with depression because they have recognized something that is overwhelming? Are we thinking of this backwards? Is it the depression that causes the creativity or the creativity that causes the depression?