(I am)... my own I am

I am the Creator
I imagine what is not there, but what is felt
What is in my bones

I can feel that
That is deep work.

I shift into new spaces
I lead with my courage to be brave
When it is hard to be brave
these days
in America
But we have to continue on.

I choose to find the pieces of recognition
To sift through those parts
That make up my identity
Who am I?
Who is anyone?

To make them whole
Isn’t that the point to
our purpose?
Of our salvation? To. keep. going on...
Gliding slow and refilled in short and long truffled steps through alleyways..
Eventually towards a valley that may be
called our own.. whatever that means.

Being a co-creator I touch others
I become the mirror of their soul
Sharing a glimmer of mine
And that’s enough...

To feel..
to hear..
to know..
Plentifully.

Not to understand more or to fear less
But to see the truth come forth from underneath this...
creativity.

What is creativity, but a fleeting image
A passing thought
An air bubble of time and space that sounds great, but appears jagged
in its form and flow

No questions asked
No worries;
thoughts to dance
around.

It is just and it is human
Formed for a mind and
heart
The body of its source
It is I, the Creator  
And... I am proud of that.
For this is my creation.