Inspiration carries us the most remarkable of places.
We taste fruits left too long on the vine, calling out for the ones who grew them;
Greet stories twisted beyond all recognition, passing themselves on the street like strangers;
Carry the accounting of every word we do not speak engraved like fire in our hearts.
Again and again I choose this particular form of overly-intimate torture, this opening,
Swallowing whatever sediment the waters bring,
Settling fertile in my belly for new worlds to grow.
Carry me onward, I pray, for I could not cease to seek you. Accept the susurration of your gifts passing through the cracks in my heart and into the worlds, offering made of voice and breath and tear as I entreat your blessings.
So may it be.
Image of birds silhouetted against a roiling sky from Pixabay on Spark Post.
Rooted Flame and a Deep Wellspring 