Why Creativity?

Because in creative dreams, the circular thinking that has fallen to the ground like a tired hula-hoop is given mouth-to-muse resuscitation.

And when this happens the sky collects songs sung from the earth

and plays them into a soft thunder

that seems to be miles away

but is in your backyard.

Next to the Weber.

Inside the empty planter where the spider plant used to be.

Your name is called in thunder dialect,

deep and brave,

ominous.

Your name is called to fulfill a creative destiny, maybe two.

You begin to eavesdrop a little more on the voice calling to you

You begin to pay attention to resilience and splendor,

You let pass the negative jabber of stranded souls knocking against the walls of hard metal containers of the cynicism that they think is required or cool.  

You shift to the thunder

You let tone, tinge, touch trace the edge of possibility

 

Its horizon melts dark into light

Your alchemy changes pain to poetry, anger to art, melancholy to music
The toes of golden existence dip into a lake of miraculous light and the ripples

Send waves of connection to the world where you can taste prose,

wear thought,

feel belief fiddling it’s strings like there is no tomorrow… unlived.

Pain is no stranger

But awe is a constant companion.

 

(C) 2011 jill badonsky

Comments

[Nancy Norbeck]

So beautiful, Jill!

[Jillbadonsky@hotmail.com]

thanks Nancy!