The beauty that lies hidden, makes my soul tremble with awe.
~ Patricia Robin Woodruff
I am giving birth. I am midwife to myself. Now is a new life full of possibilities. I must be strong like a child.
In poetry we pare down our thoughts into their most graceful shapes, like minimalist sculptures.
I can't keep myself from creativity. Ideas flash like lightning burning my bones. It must flow out of my hands or it will burst me apart.
There's something about water that washes away the cares of the mind and heart.
Words drop from my lips spiraling downward; they land scattered on your ears. I spoke them green and golden, but you turned them shriveled brown.
Today I trust me. I trust in my perceptions. Today I will live my own truth that glows within, a life of no deceptions.
Our wishes become real and solid if we work on their formation. If it matters to you, make energy become matter.
Love is a poem that keeps on writing itself, sweeping us along.
The seeds of life inside my womb were present at my birth; a gift from mother's mother, on back to Mother Earth.
Our lives are a constellation of events, strung together, glittering; the shapes only being seen from a distance.
Endings and beginnings look just the same.
I have shaken loose. Like the lily, I rest on the deep water's surface. Not knowing the journey's end, I rest in nature's embrace.
