The Three Faces of Creation
Every morning I rise hopeful.
Will my muse whisper inspiration in my ear this morning?
Will a wandering spark of creativity land in my lap
And drive my writing today?
Some days I am carried by my waking thoughts.
Other days the cupboards are bare.
The wisps of new ideas pass me by.
Those are the days I show up and simply try.
Those are the hard days.
Embracing my passion each morning,
Just showing up no matter my internal landscape,
Seems to help the flow of words onto paper.
But there are no guarantees.
There are no magic pills to take.
How does it feel to write?
Some moments I feel like a violently erupting volcano.
The thoughts literally pour out of me
In a joyous orgasm of creation.
I type furiously, desperate capture them all.
Other days writing is a labor of love.
I start with thoughtful exploration to see what calls me.
Time slows to a crawl as ideas shyly peek out,
Slowly revealing themselves and their potential.
These days offer the satisfaction of a job well done.
Then there are the difficult days.
Nothing emerges without a fight.
Every sentence is a challenge -
Re-writing needed for every line.
And sometimes, the only way forward is to start over.
Today was a blank morning.
I had ideas set aside to get me going,
I had goals calling for my attention.
But in this moment of quiet.
The wisp of inspiration that landed in my lap was this poem.
It asked to be birthed. I answered yes.