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From whence inspiration
A lottery prize
Buy enough tickets
Increase your odds
To make it happen

Conjured muse
Summons
A bearing down
A calling forth
To grind the spark

Often, silence
Seeking light
Hungering for more
Digging deep
Bumping into shadows

Slender pivots
Heralded new images
Energy ON
Minds in madness
The heart knows and responds

Internal engine purring
Inspiration, process, drive, product: Creativity
Lather, rinse, repeat

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Too many people take the good in their lives for granted
Behaving in ways that imply
A belief that they deserve their blessings
Without actually pondering just why
They think the randomness of the universe
Accidents of birth
The preordained arrangement of genes
(Precise donor A mates with precise donor B resulting in self-deluded offspring C)
Should have bestowed upon them
Great hair, lovely cheekbones, high IQs, strong physiques
(Not to mention being born in the most powerful nation in the world
Instead of a back-street hovel in Bangladesh
Or the isolated frozen tundra in a far-flung corner of Siberia).

Too many people assume the mantle of entitlement
Thinking a bad day is one when their daughter fails to make show choir
Or where layoffs at Christmas will negatively impact a school bond issue
Or how unmatched metallics mar a cultivated pulled together sense of fashion
Unaware how petty their grievances come across
To those who have truly suffered
To those who have truly known pain and sorrow
To those desperately seeking a respite from their troubles
And never, not ever, finding it…

Oh, yes, the humanity!

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I married my BFF on April 20, 1996. Call me lazy, call me negligent but I simply draped my wedding gown in pink plastic sheeting and hung it up in the closet. Fast forward to today when I gingerly removed the plastic to see how she’s fared after all these years. I’m pleased to say the dress still looks as lovely and beautiful as the day I wore it and – bonus!! – it still fits.

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I am being folded into my life,
Days reveal themselves
With quiet, joy and solitude.
Indecision, a sometime companion.

Open skies, blue streaked with shades of white
A calming spirit.
Trials perhaps yet to come
I have a voice that wants to sing.

Words and songs all my own,
Not yet expressed
(But soon).
Hidden, but there – still.

Yearning to try
Grasping to know who and what I am
And to understand
What is mine to give, and why.

Move on – my mantra.
At times I am weary
Fearful of destinations undoing the very essence
Of who it is I think I have become.

I think I know what I want
Occasionally, I’m surprised.
I don’t care for ice cream
But sometimes I do.

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A precious few will love,
So many more will take.
And think nothing of it.

I’ve known a few Takers
They have hurt me to my core.
Walking away, oblivious.

With a smug arrogance
They smile and nod
While brandishing hidden daggers.

Claws flexed
Poisonous tongues wagging
So long as they get theirs, they’re good.