Monday, April 4, 2011

Can of Worms

    This was my fear all along.  A calm and silent acknowledgement, I don't want to do this anymore.  Just the flutter of hummingbird wings in my mind one morning.  This drains me.  This does not strengthen me.  The small flutter that sent the small ripple that sent the river flooding that sent the ocean coursing through estuaries that with years of repression carved themselves so deeply that the waters of inspiration and truth are now rushing through me.
     How do we go from day to do with this deep dissatisfaction, wonder, and awe?

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