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…]