I’m Back
I wrote this in my little book last night.
I feel as though I’ve spent too much time talking and eating and drinking and spending money and working and sleeping (or, trying to) and curling up in front of my new laptop, and not any time at all thinking in poems or being struck by a moment; crippled by craving a camera - unable to simply sit and look. I’ve sat and looked now for a long enough period of time to forget the Aphrodite of my art - kept my voice for nothing, or talking, instead of being helpless to the joy of singing, singing, SINGING my heart out every day and night like I’m meant to.
I feel normal. as opposed to VIBRANT and alive and making love to my soul that will only have art, of whatever sort. I feel stuck in a ditch of what humans do, instead of enraptured, enslaved, demolished and obsessed by my own mind. These words are feeding a fever, a fervor, a fire.
I feel it coming back. It starts as an itch, or a restlessness - I cannot stop wishing for my tuned strings or my light capturing box, or, this blessed, blessed pen. Yes, I am inspired. I am not as delved, devoted as I was, but a strength I have missed is returning. Hallelujah!
