“Just write” they say,
“Just put your pen to paper, your fingers to keypad ” they urge.
“Your heart will end up in the ink of new discovery,” they tell me…
I suppose it’s true.
I suppose words are created in action that becomes thought
and I suppose maybe even the opposite is true:
thought becomes action
ah yes, the infamous chicken or the egg
So I write and I grow
I yammer on until beauty or Truth
find Life on the page
~ lukewarm coffee
~ muffled chimes
~ distant highway trucks
~ the falling of pine needles
~ the deep clearing cough of Chris at the sink
~ the kneading urgency of Tiger, demanding the attention due his royalty
the beautiful Ordinary of a lazy Saturday morning
Life penned in ink
on an empty canvas.