There are times when I wake up and my heart sings. And it becomes this great pulsing desire to build something beautiful. It shines and I shine and I want to do something...meaningful. And so I write. Because it's a medium that my heart understands. And because it gives me great pleasure spilling words onto paper or screen. I don't regret what I write. Not often. Though there are times I blush or wonder, what made me write those things? But I love each creation. And I hope, in my heart of hearts, that it loves me.
For the past two mornings I've woken and my body has been aching to write and I see words in my head and I hear their voice in my soul and I want to let them go. This is how I know I'm ready to create again. Because something like that can't be forced. I never know what it is I will write. I don't even know if it will be deemed good by anyone who bothers to read. But it came from me. And I am what it is. An expression, deep, melancholy, thoughtful, joyful, sad, intuitive, sensitive, beautiful. And I accept each word as its own right to be.
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