Archive
06/11/09 - (1)
Starting Point
Call this Thursday morning a humble overture, A prelude, a preface, a prologue, An invocation to the muse who oversees my creativity,
As I set forth on another diurnal journey To the source of my potentiality, Whatever destination destiny has in mind, for me.
These seemingly routine, pedestrian beginnings — My a.m. scribblings in vowel-chiming signatures — So often hold the keys that open me to my spirit's mysteries,
Lead me to speculations that deliver my heart to conclusions Otherwise invisible to imagination's naked eyes, ears, Set me soaring in the correct direction, at least.
And so it is that, most early mornings, I take up my plastic Bic ballpoint, in my right brain's hand, And let it seize me as it sees fit,
Realizing that only by giving it free rein Might my reason for being meet me halfway, Proclaim my life's work a perfect starting point for immortality.
06/11/09 - (1)
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