The Ecstasy of Writing

In my day dreams I am writing,

captivated by the texture of letters

which swoon me like feathers

caressing the skin of your beloved.

The word- it, covers me;

my writing.

bodied like an ocean’s presence,

its beauty-rhythmically drowned in essence;

the earth’s landscape.

 

Words keep me intimate;

literally innocent;

pure.

Emptying visions running marathons

It is this eagle

inside of me which escapes;

a vagabond

until I found this home

Writing will never leave me alone – separate

it sacredly entangles me into its web of exception;

free form expression

as healing indeed.

The words are the concert

this website is my microphone

to make sense

of the audience in my head which screams.

Free!

Like an Alvin Ailey dancer

suspended in air.

Not sure why it chose me.

Selah.

My fingertips,

 addicted to the sensations of touch

Knowing that words come

from what we believe is enough

to arrest my senses: handcuffs

liberty entirely forbidden by those bound inside

 captivated by my own hang glide.

I love.

Hypnotizing, I using words as my crest;

I straighten my wings and prepare for the turn in gest.

– Ressurrection Graves

Date: May 04, 2012

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