To hear the soul unchained but remain caged screaming for freedom, for release to its Other.
The soul will forever want what it wants, the decision imprinted on its fabric even beyond the rationality of your conscious mind.
..........
you must write. There is a story, several, bubbling beneath your outer shell that you cannot contain. Like fissures on a volcanic surface, you are unable to hold back what issues forth as billowing steam but sometimes, also, rosy gold substance.
You must write.
.........
Charting my course through my own destiny as we chart our way across maps to our destinations. From the sky: white billowing clouds like oceans within stormy oceans, earthy plains, green rolling upon greens, a feeble river mightily cutting its path across through sheer lucky stubborn persistence.
..........
Writer's retreat would be great right about now. Moved enough hurdles to finally start remembering what Inspired felt like.....tasted like, on an eager parched tongue.
Like glistening beads of the honeysweat of the Beloved, the Batin that moves within.
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