Today, as I sit and try to write, I realize I know not the combination to my own creativity. Some days I feel synced with the song of myself, in alignment with what I perceive and what I wish to express. Today, I feel totally blocked…. locked out. Pad-lock combination forgotten (clumsy thumbs), quick key registration, access denied. Total disconnect from spirit and mind and expressiveness.
My head is a wet match against its striking strip…. crumbling smudging red. Ideas, notions, a pretty-lady-muse clothed in diaphanous white stands on the cobble rock, and I just look at her with a dumb and swollen mouth, slack jawed and crude. I don’t know what to say to her. I don’t know what to say. I’m not even sure what I’m seeing…..
I hear music and the love of it swells in my throat. I think pretty thoughts and all I think is pretty. No crystalline transparency to be lifted and therefore applied. I know, “I dumb today”.
I’m blocked. Locked out. Pad-lock combination forgotten, clumsy thumbs like a boy with a bra strap, quick key registration, access denied. Total disconnect from spirit and mind and expressiveness.
Perhaps I’ll try tomorrow, within another hour’s convenience… along another afternoon’s convergence with contemplation.
Oh my baby muse, come back. I shudda bought that ring….