the life and death of a writer.....

I have read books about the discipline of writing.. I have heard writer's speak about writer's rhythm, sitting at the desk at 9am each morning no matter what, writing by the phases of the moon..... yet in this woman's life writing has no rhyme or reason ... it is the greatest teacher... it comes, oozing out of every pore.....spilling on the page like a waterfall roaring over rocks...words of ecstasy.. grief.. longing... understanding...chaos.. they love to wake me at 3am... when I least expect them...when I have forgotten how much I love that flow from heart through mind and pen onto paper....pure emergence from the unknown into life....

and then... nothing there... pure absence....it's gone.... completely, utterly, absolutely .....nothing there.... so nothing.. that I feel the pen and I were never lovers... only the typed page and the pile of books make a lie of absence... testimony to the emergence of word and form...

much like life and death... you're there and then you're gone... or maybe just moved on?

so... writing silence for just a while...

.....then luscious poems......lots of glorious, luscious poems.... slipping silently up in the late night intimacy with God moments....or pounding on my door with ecstatic impatience as sleep eludes me..... or pulsating wildly through every vein as the golden moon sails across the sky....

I'll share one...

Let loose,
so the Friend
may see you
love you
dance you
to your destiny,
One with Love.

Like a fish on a hook
your futile fight
your struggle with egoity
delays
the inevitable disappearance
of man-made cloth

Why not
let loose and dance
on the Persian rug
of devotion
and service?

Let the Beloved
befriend you!

there's more..... another time..