I want to put more energy into writing,
into this piece of me that feels so important,
the part that fills my lungs with air and makes my feet spring alive with happiness.
At times, I wonder where these words come from.
They come so quickly that I cannot think them,
They charge at me with a sweeping rush,
like ocean waves on a midnight beach.
These divine thoughts cannot be from me.
They are flecks of gold washed up on the shore,
They are fragments of dust from a shooting star,
They are sprinkled across papers and journals,
so I cannot own them.
I have streams of consciousness
like brine flowing into a churning sea.
These words become mine so easily.
I never thought about being close to God.
I thought God was too far away to hold.
I thought it impossible to embrace his full aura,
But his spirit drums within me
with urgent repetition.
At first, this closeness shocks me.
I am un-taming myself for the divine.
I am glowing like a firefly in the summertime,
I am unwinding in this security,
reconstructing in this twilight.