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I’m passionate.  At times, I feel overwhelmed – inexplicably.  My heart overflows and I feel I cannot be contained.

It comes and goes.  It ebbs and flows.

Perhaps it’s the artist, the poetess within me. 
My muse, my passion – she may lay dormant for a long while. But when she reawakens, she makes herself known. Her consciousness floods me…

I used to feel her as a rushing river flowing inside.  So loud, so intense, she would roar and batter me within.  Her rapids would leave me unbalanced, unfocused, and untethered.  I fear I haven’t the strength to withstand her force. 

But her strength is also mine.

She fills me with enough power that my body, my spirit, my heart of hearts constantly hums.  

I feel her rising again.  I now see her as a phoenix.  Beautiful creature.  Maybe she hibernates within the ashes. Then, when the time comes, she awakes, stronger than ever.  She rages forth. She is reborn. 

And in her birth, I feel my death.  She conquers me.

But I know that I must die in order to be born. Many times, will I die. 

I’m shedding.  I’m releasing.

And with each end comes a new beginning.  My phoenix pushes me to the frayed ends so that I may break free.  I recycle.  I transform.  I transcend.

So now is the storm before the quiet.  The phoenix muse – she rages within me, warning me, preparing me. She forecasts the future.

I see now.  I am ready.

[It is always enlightening to go back and read you’re own words…]

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