My sweet wonderful work hails me from my slumbering hours. To me it is like a beautiful wife in need of me to be at her side. It stirs my passion where that is the only place I would want to be anyway. Her eyes run deep like a poem, drawing me into the depths, those vast oceans.
My work draws me into its depths with its exotic words, ready to explode in my mind, begging me to write them down. Why it chose me remains a mystery, but I would not have it any other way.
It takes me to places where I have never been before. As I meditate on beauty, I can see it floating with virgin streams, running through smiling meadows, angels playing celestial melodies on their harps, and all the clarity that allows knowledge to enter. It comes to me like the rain comes to the thirsty meadows; thanks be to the spirit that inhabits my soul with its generous offerings.
My sweet wonderful work is a paradise of thought. It unveils its pent up secrets with its anxious revelations. It speaks to me with golden words through blissful lips. It takes residence in my soul and discards everything that doesn’t belong there. It’s how life longs to be; reverent and content.
My sweet wonderful work is a massive dictionary written by the intelligence that moves within my soul. It opens up through my meditations and takes me to the end. My journey is like a magic carpet that soars through time and space. Its wisdom is like a child’s story book that comes to me with ease and clarity. I can see words that can move the unmovable. I can see the wind as it embarks on its voyage and the end when it grows tired before it stops.
My sweet wonderful work pieces together revelations and writes a story about life living through life, passion living through passion, and intelligence living through intelligence. After all, I am a poet.