some days
the words
just flow
appearing
on the page
not belonging
to you
conduit
of prose
expressing
human frailty
passionate
trembling
remembered
moments
then on
other days
whiteness glares
ghostly haunting
pulling you
toward
creations
once upon
a time
yet to bloom.
maysa-maria kristina gadelha peterson
“If you can see your path laid out in front of you step by step, you know it’s not your path. Your own path you make with every step you take. That’s why it’s your path.” ― Joseph Campbell
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The Path Towards Transformation
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"The time has come," the Walrus said, "to talk of many things." Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass
at times I feel this same, in painting- somehow if my Self goes absent,the painting, or the Muse, or just thin air completes the work…
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good poems today! Life can also be God!
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I really understand you, our muse is really tricky eh? 🙂
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Indeed! 🙂
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