Orchestration of most high
When the impulse of Creativity lunges forth.
I must write or draw or paint whether in my minds eye or on a scarce surface longing to receive.
Someone very dear calls it joie de vivre.
I call it ethereal. A breathe we can all breathe.
Poetic and True.
At least I aspire to such and when one aspires one is nine tenths the way.
At times it’s a raging flood.
It’s the Niagra, Victoria and Iguazu combined.
Powerful, meaningful as it carves the stone or moves the mountain.
The Almighty performing it’s act of love.
Unstoppable.
Anonymous yet ever so intimate.
A unique reflection, lovely and clear.
A hand on the small of your back. Your chaperone.
You, the conductor gripping the baton.
Tua Cicerone.
Orchestration of most high.
Open toward Essence.
Open to the sound, find the clue, the glue that binds the fiber we are, every thought, every scream, every living dream.
All that crosses your path is meant to be seen. All that plays is judicious and lean.
Arise in me the deep awareness, lost. Bygone relic of long ago. Fill me with your compassion.
Unlock your woven web and whisper your secrets. I am ready. I will perceive.
Living and loving without time or place.
Erase the confounds if only for a moment and create.
I, merely the instrument and You the artist.
