these letters come on to the page
I don't always know where they are coming,
nor where they are headed.

Yet,
no matter what,
they seem to come dripping, or sometimes flowing out of my finger tips

It is carthatic,
this thing

To express yourself,
without any rules

any regulations
the words I choose,
or are they chosen??

That I do not know
I could be a record, playing itself out in the universe,
one key stroke at a time

Yet,
I know

as I type these words,
pecking away at my keyboard

I Feel my spirits rising
the mist has lifted

and the sun shines through

we all have our gifts
and holding them back always causes us pain

it is not always easy
but always necessary

what do you have to share with the world?