A modest repose is resting on the shoulders of an introvert screaming while a gregarious drama within wants attention. A seeker speaks in conflict, naming a creative explosion with a tangential extensions that only a few can follow.
We wait steeped in all that must recreate itself, wanting to be heard not told. Resting in a child's mind. I act one way and the only way to continue in my art is to let go of the monolog and my fear of change. I once wanted to be a star. Now I wish on them.
I’ve gotten to know my loneliness as an inner guru touching how I meditate and focus on words that don’t always make sense. Yet they come together with a grand hand wanting a voice. I have to do this in order to match my insides with my outsides. My poetry comes and goes, the message I give myself can be less than positive. You will walk with me and I know I will get through this while breathing into and releasing my heart's weight. I know I am here, waiting.
