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Lake muse
Today I write I write with no music for the ears I write with no candle for the soul I write with no table for the side of my hand for this blank page lays rustling in my lap touched by lake blue waves whispering melody glowing with flickering white capped flames furrowing troughs that flow into me love pouring through my pores love thrust onto itself love until love cannot be contained by skin and skin dissolves into breeze and body breaks as a wave breaks onto lake shore.
Thank you for reading! What strikes you, speaks to you, or stirs in you while you read this piece? I look forward to whatever dialogue happens here, and as always, I will be following up with a Reflection essay on how this poem emerged into being.
Brian
Thanks for Lake muse. I deeply appreciate the last four lines, how sounds of words with different spellings and meanings dance together. I am curious to read your reflections. How does love enter into this space for you? I know how and why love enters for me, in the stillness, in the presence and allowing, in the merging of writing, muses' stirrings coming into being is an act of witnessing, then expressing, midwife-ing creation. And creation is an act of love.
Wow. I can't even explain exactly why this is a fantastic poem. It just is. It speaks for itself.