The paradox at this point is that I am a creative being…
Yet there is nothing here,
Nothing that exists –
No store-bought stuff,
No plastic scaffolding,
That satisfies the need
How does one create something entirely new?
It can’t be done with old recipes,
And ingredients that are void of taste
This is the ultimate in “stuck”.
I can’t look out there anymore,
I find nothing to inspire.
While frightening at times,
This Thing inside waits for permission
To be wildly unpredictable,
Throw caution to the wind,
To talk and sing the craziness
That gets that juice
Spraying on the faces,
Of those who have kept control
Of all the frightened souls.
I won’t stay in the stuck much longer,
Just letting you know.
This is my warning to the numb ones,
It’s going to get out of hand
And way out of mind,
So move aside.
The stars are much too big and bright
To live in the bottles
That line these walls of time.
Watch me as I speak the songs
And sing the language of the Universe.
Watch me kiss the Earth and Sky,
For this is the “I” that is coming unglued.
She knows only how to live,
And has lost,
And all but forgotten
Her will to die.
© Em Meyer