Epiphany #36

Once upon a time I was a poet. I was always inspired by something. I wonder where that inspiration has gone. Is it here in this same space with me? Is it asleep and if so is the alarm about to go off to awaken it? Or has my direction just changed? I see so many things in people, places and things it may just be about how to begin to bring what I see alive. Writing paper is like a canvas to a poet; as you write it begins to come alive. As I begin to describe what I feel the page becomes more vibrant. I can create any emotion with the words I choose. Poetry reveals so much and so little about the poet at the same time. Poetry is the art of emotion brushed onto the napkin, old piece of cardboard or whatever you can find. The thoughts are sometimes fleeting and must be captured in just the right light of the moment. I was recently asked what happened to my poetry and did not have an answer until now. My poetry is trapped within the confines of my mind. I have missed the moments that have been moving so very swiftly and have I been unable to catch them. So my poetry is happening all the time it is screaming to be released on to my canvas of choice. It is the energy that flows and pulses through me at all times. God has given me a gift, one of many that bring me joy. I need to live within those gifts. I need to live within those gifts. I need to live within those gifts...