When I write….It all passes through me. I see more in black and white than what’s in my heart. I can fix this…when I write.
My heart seems to have no rhyme or reason but my words bleed truth, bleed, reveal my soul. My matters of the heart are not without healing, when I write. The invincible is plausible, the impossible is reasonable. I can do more, achieve more when I write. I am more than super; I am a wonder, when I write. I feel normal yet I know this writing is unique, a gift, my very own gift. It is mine….and it frees me….it connects me…it heals me. It is me, all of me.
My tears spill over into smiles or a “Wow. Now I see” confirmation begins to develop new ideas. My joy, the kind no one can take away centers me. God meets me write there…..and quite simply, “There” is an intimacy experienced–no longer an imagination…when I write.