...Ready to Fly...
Carpe Diem
...I feel Her cold fingers creep along the edge of a dark abyss within me. She tries to reach for me and I am untouchable. I look shamefully away, I feel guilt. I feel too much and She knows it. I don't write because I aspire to be rich and famous. There are many more things to worry about, and those things come with their own particular sets of issues. I write to "let it all bleed out" into a place where I can take it and burn it, scorch it right out of my life.
...She's been there for all of it. She's been reminding me that I want to take good care of all of this, be very cautious with it. Not to spread my wings before they are strong enough to hold me up high and take me close to the Sun. Not before I am fearless enough to love that feeling. Trade it for procrastination. Carpe Diem.
...Realizing what She must do in order to keep my attention, She clicks Her insight and inspiration off and on like a flashlight reminding me we are never in total darkness unless we chose to be. The light She shines glints off bottles and stones and curtains hanging long and sheer. Bats and sparrows dart in the sky above me. I stand inside the circle of myself turning around and around. I am blissfully unaware of any pain and frustration here.
...I have come to love this Labyrinth, this quiet place within me that coils round and round and begs me to walk inside it. When my exhaustion and exasperation have almost overtaken me, the Labyrinth calls and I am there, exalted.
...I am still often amazed and astounded at Her power. It is seen in the sand of the seashore, the roaring call of the ocean. It pours out over a huge chalice upon the Earth, right out over my life and washes out the filth and broken pieces. Carried away are the memories no longer needed to be used as catalysts. They lay buried under the silt of my Ocean and become jewels of new patterns and thoughts added to my collection. I cry with relief that I can allow them the transformation they desire. Still, some of the residual sludge refuses to go, and I know one day that it too will erode into the vast sea of Rebirth.
...I believe I write for me, but then She comes and I believe She writes through me. She whispers and I reiterate. It is I that has to take action as She talks me through it. I trust Her completely as She reminds me of how far I have come. I recall the steps I have taken to make it this way and I am protected in the process. To be without Her would mean certain Death in every sense of the word. She is truly the wind beneath the wings that I need for when I am Ready To Fly...
