The question in itself is a stopper,
Like hitting a wall.
A sense of overwhelm, a flooding of words, and then blank.
How to express what writing is for me?
Where to begin?
Perhaps by understanding that the question never ends and has no answer,
Like a river it just flows without knowing why.
Life seeking life.
I write to connect deeply with myself, my surroundings and others,
To bring all this forth, into the light of tangibility.
When the invisible is seen
Through the touching of my existence by my finger tips.
I dance with the beauty and intricacy of words, the images they paint,
And find balance and harmony in how they weave together.
Through them i remember who i am, where i come from,
And i hold them and myself, gently with care.
At times the immensity of the experience is so great,
The inner life calling out to be seen and heard,
Begging to find it’s way through words into the light.
And, like now, i dare to write.
September 6, 2015