Beginning Again

I am starting to feel like a poet again, after so long. For a long time now, I have drifted along on the edge of being a writer, going through the motions, putting the words down on the page. Now though I am beginning to feel that connection to the words again, feel that they are a part of me in the way that a craftsman’s tools are part of him. External, but with the force of creation flowing through them, as though they know what shapes lie within each piece of wood, stone, or other material, that lies there waiting for those tools to disclose it.



I am – once again – beginning to feel the words out there in the world, waiting for me to discover where they lie within all that is around me, all I have to do is perform the rites that will bring those words out from where they hide to have them resting in my open palms.

Then I can take each careful word and place it amongst its kindred spirits where they will draw strength from each other, give each other the support they need to stand together against this wordless world.

Together the words and I will go out to face the coldest winter winds, the harshest summer suns, safe in the knowledge that we understand the power of each other’s magic.