You see an image,

There in the darkest recesses,

Conjured up and born of something.

A spark of insight

Perhaps from a dream remembered

And you add just a bit of your magic

And with hands that become greedy to begin,

To start now on the precious creation,

The pieces put together to become a part of who you are,

Or who you were if not noticed

Till long after you fly away.

But it will be passed around

And the thought will arise,

How neat, I wonder how they thought of it

And it really won’t matter because it will be here,

This mysterious wonderful thing,

Like stone horses reaching into the deepest sea

To drink the nectar of life,

To stir a quiet sense of inspiration

For bigger and better things,

And that’s is what makes something new,

Unseen before now

And what had been a speck in the mind

Now permanent in the mind

For as long as it can recall.

Look around, what is it that you see that no one else can, what can you call your own,

What can you share of the magic you hold,

Who will see it and smile in understanding and awe

Like a lightbulb moment of Wow…I wish I would have thought of that.

More errant thoughts running amok,

Drinking in the vibration

Waiting on the edge of the “ah, yes. There it is at long last.”

Streams of consciousness

You come to me
In Deepest slumber
Lessons of student and sky
To fly yet grounded
Document lost
Who I am
Nowhere to be found
On the higher plane
Conscious running free
Like clearest mountain stream
Slivers of silver reflected
Through the rushing movement
Emotion like slippery stone
Creating waves
From underneath
Below the surface there lies
A higher horizon of night to day
And caught in the middle
Between light and dark
The stream slips past silently
And in the moment of perfect solitude
The dawn of realization
That this is all
There needs to be
The here
The now
The who I truly am
A part of whole
Yet nothing at all
A speck
A grain
Of sand in time
Streaming form
Of memory.