Creativity connects me to my soul.
She is my beloved companion.
A constant flame of becoming.
A blessed river flowing through my heart.
She is an open field, a mountain high, valley,
place of quest, of deepest rest.
A tremendous all consuming force
of unstoppable proportions.
She bathes me in her moonlight dance,
takes me, sways me, holds me.
Threads a needle in my hand.
I obey.
Stay connected to her thread - her intensity.
She knows my dreams, my innermost core,
my seeings, feelings, listenings;
my crying, dieing, laughter and my prayers.
She spins the dark and light of it.
With a strong and gentle might of will
dissolves me into liquid words,
moves shapes to harmony, renders me still.
She is a bird of plumage bright on whose wings
gives sight to fly, to soar, to travel and explore.
Every tale of me she spins and weaves.
Creates universes; tapestries of uniqueness.
Spreads roots to earth and branches to the sky.
Like incense burning in the temple, she burns to nothing.
From the dust her fragrance lingers long,
short, sometimes in between.
She is never seen.
Like a current, a deluge, a passion, a gentle running stream.
She comes through a silent, empty space.
Connects me to my soul.
Creativity Connects Me
2004 ©
From the root the sap rises up into the artist,
flows through him, flows to his eyes.
He is the trunk of the tree. Overwhelmed and activated
by the force of the current, he conveys the vision into his work....
he does nothing other than gather and pass on
what rises from the depths. He neither serves nor commands, he transmits.
His position is humble. And the beauty at the crown is not his own;
it has merely passed through him.
Paul Klee