Ideas drift by in the ether, shining brightly displaying their wares for all on this plane to see, waiting for someone to notice who cares enough to cradle an ember close, give it form upon the page once inked it sparks, ignited by chance, to inspire a whole new age Some ideas wait for aeons, without capturing hearts or minds Biding their time patiently, for the receivers who see their kind Then all at once and without warning, a slew of embers will explode in a burst Driving a torrent of change so timely, that it almost looks rehearsed It is long known the forces of creation, work in mysterious ways we can question the source of their provenance, or find joy in the warmth of their blaze greet their words with hearts wide open, and an acceptance we can always be wrong submit our souls to the hum of peace and love, that is the Universe’s only song
‘Creativity comes from the spiritual realm, the collective consciousness. And the mind is in a different realm than the molecules of the brain. The brain is a receiver, not a source.’Candace Pert
I still get a feeling of great surprise every time I finish a poem, like I’m not quite sure how it appeared on the page, but there it is, proclaiming its existence with no plausible deniability. It’s a great feeling, I hope it never goes away.
If you enjoyed this poem then please like, share, leave a comment and maybe even subscribe to my blog. Connecting with people through writing gives me the same sense of wonder as the actual writing, and since I’m a self-confessed wonder junkie, I’ll have some more please! You can also follow me on Instagram.