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| Photo courtesy of Chrisroll |
"One of the things I know about writing is this: spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time. Do not hoard what seems good for a later place in the book or for another book; give it, give it all, give it now. The impulse to save something good for a better place later is the signal to spend it now. Something more will arise for later, something better." -- Annie Dillard, The Writing Life
The following is a poem, by yours truly.
Muses
Nine imperceptible trickles, each drawn together by the
motherly call of Mnemosyne
Their gentle voices babble gracefully over the worn, mossy
riverock in my mind
Tumbling, falling, and slipping through gaps at the edge of
my understanding
Closer now, I recognize the splashing as it cascades through
my being
The swelling current is demanding and pulls me into the
stream
I wade deeper, and join with the singing - we become a river
A strange mixture of fear and exhilaration overwhelm me
Should I return back to my safe haven on the shore?
I am unable to resist, I dive, responding to the call
Faster, deeper into the roaring, crashing waves
I have lost myself in he abyss, we are one
Dancing together we change everything
Laughter bursts forth like a symphony
The stars above watch in wonder
Writing my story in the sky
Plucking an ageless song
It is a tragic love story
Hidden behind a veil
Muses whisper
"Listen!"


