Not much to write tonight. Took the night off as far as putting pen to paper. Just sitting back to absorb the world around me and let all I’ve taken in settle and percolate.
I got an unexpected and oddly thrilling little piece this morning. I’m not a poet unless you count limericks and your standard “4 line must rhyme” poems from school. This doesn’t rhyme, but it feels like poetry. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d heard some of the phrases somewhere, but a quick Google search didn’t turn anything up.
Anyway, here’s something from the deepest well. Unexpected and not my usual style, but worth recording for posterity.
Rise…I Call Thee
Rise from sleep, intrepid one. I call thee from slumber to make use of thy muse. Take pen in hand and spend time with me. Uncover the words branded across my surface. Use ink to discover what lies beneath. Within and without my lines lies Art, the essence of you.
Come to me, fresh from dreams and other worlds. Sit with me, move across me. Dive into me. Let me be a mirror to your gravid soul. Beautiful prose shall adorn me. Thoughts and ponderings, clever turns of phrase. Together we shall mine the depths for rubies, diamonds, and emeralds.
Let me speak when you are done. Breathe life into me and send me out into the world…your child, your lover, your intimate friend.
Rise from sleep, intrepid one. I call thee from thy slumber.