Thoughts on the Road 121209
Words claim my hand
Moving me to write
It’s almost manic how they demand to be written.
The muse fills me in these moments.
I don’t know what I write until it’s done.
Is the muse another aspect of me?
Or a separate entity that possesses me?
These thoughts come to me in weird times.
On a road driving, at work typing numbers.
When that happens it’s very unsettling and
Causes me to lose focus until it’s written down.
My hand cramps as the words are purged from my psyche.
In a way the pain is good because I feel something important
It’s hard to understand unless you are a writer like me.
The overwhelming desire to write prevails.
One hopes that someone will read your words and find out
Who you are.
Brave souls to wander this territory.
Some things are hard to read and absorb. They seem like
I think they are pieces of inspiration. Instead of looking at them
In your head, they are meant to be shared.
Everything you read doesn’t have to be black & white.
It can be many colors of the rainbow.
I think I need to journal everyday, even if it is only a sentence.
My true happiness is there. Everything else is everything else.
At one time, I thought I was crazy. This compulsion to write everything down. But I think it is necessary for me.