You empty yourself out
letting go
of everything you thought you were
or part thereof
and what remains?
what is there?
fears
dissolve
and the sense of self
that claimed you
engaged you
defined you
and probably caged you.
did you choose to let go
or was it something that was stripped away
by circumstance
divorce, loss of work, loss of …….
and did you really let go?
or did the emptiness come later
or do you still cling
to something
a frayed string that you do not know is there
one that could break at any moment
for a moment it slips
an empty space
free of clutter
you can see through
a blank page
a canvas upon which to draw
what flows through
where to begin
where are the points of reference
now gone from the map
which has been erased
it is blank
how do you feel?
excited?
afraid?
a mixture of both?
confused?
empty?
do the words pour forth
the brush flow along
liberated from all that constrained?
or do you hesitate
not knowing
drawing a blank
unsure of how to proceed
but feeling that you must
not comfortable with the emptiness?
can you sit with it for a while
until the voice does flow
can you sit quietly
do you have the patience
to wait for the light
to feed the small flame
trust that it will emerge
pen a word, paint a stroke
not quiet knowing what you are creating
but having faith?
it grows
slowly or quickly
pausing and the emerging
do you like what you see
can you see
can you keep on without knowing the outcome
a little at a time
or in bold action
or do you waver
when the others ask
what are you? who are you?
define yourself to me
¨i´m not sure¨ not a comfortable answer
though it is the truth for most
if it be told
all in creation
but in frustration
do you force yourself
fight the emptiness
and recreate what was familiar
maybe with different colours or an altered plot
but like the pulp novels the story is predictable
and the outcome is known
or in your determination to let go
to force it out
do you insist that you create something different
not waiting for the voice within
the empty space to fill in its own time
for the true light to emerge
and create frantically
oh so determinedly
trying to beat that deadline
and only in the end
see that the new is so much the same as what was there before.
or are you afraid
to paint again, to write again
wondering if it will too be a cage
bounding you
so you block out the light
and stare out into emptiness
but how long can it last
and what will come into fill the space
if you do not engage.
Write a word
draw a line
create
anew and anew and anew
