Today’s post is something a little different from my normal writing here. Perhaps it’s safe to say that today’s post is more indicative to the kind of writing my heart bleeds to do. I hope you enjoy it. This may become part of a book I’m playing with called, Letters to Myself.
Letters 2 Myself
There is so much desire inside of me. Desire that culminates in hopes, dreams, and creative energy. It all wants to be birthed and flow out of me and greet a waiting world.
I have visions of stages; artwork yet to be created and shared; words that jump from the paper they are on, conveying truth and dreams; pictures that impart deep ethos in viewers; kindness that encourages and uplifts; work that changes, confronts and accomplishes; a legacy that reminds and recalls.
But they all remain hidden and dormant within a body and a mind that refuses to cooperate.
This creativity is begging to be let out of it’s cage … permanently. It’s asking for it’s freedom – it’s wings so it can take flight and soar to it’s ultimate heights.
There are moments, every now and then, when desire is released from the iron-like clasp of myalgic encephalomyelitis (me). It is in those moments, that glimpses of passion flutter to the surface, exhaing the beauty that lies within; inhaling the scent of possibility from without.
There is a vibration in the earth that mimics the musical cadence within the heart of my dreams. It reaches forward with longing and anticipatory hands, grasping at the multitude of visions that tauntingly dance in and out while quickly, trying to capture them, mold them, make them into the shape they were born to be.
…. all before the lights go out and desire and passion become prisoners of a body and mind once again shackled by the gripping tentacles of myalgic encephalomyelitis.