Jagged Edges

Tearaway pages,
Stuck in a jar,
Writing without a purpose,
Pen moving.

Words forming,
Consciousness and flow,
What would it be like…
To write for the sake of writing?

To write not to express,
Or to exude my glory,
But to listen,
To the soft whispers of my heart.

Perfection demands punishment,
But there is none in a place like this,
Blank paper,
Doing what you wish.

No right or wrong,
No good or bad,
Just is,
Creation.

Creation from the deepest waters,
Of black ripples,
Steady yet unwavering,
Will you stay still enough to listen?

Look at you go!
Writing poetry on the daily,
No croissant on hand,
No corner seat at Rachel’s.

This is POWER,
This is choice,
To write anywhere and anytime,
To trust yourself.

See what happens when you let go,
Falling,
To discover wings,
And soar.

Jagged edges in my notebook,
What an accomplishment!
I am now a writer.

I write my will.