How interesting that when I am most stripped of thought and emptied of soul, eventually, the sighs rise inside, like ocean waves, and then roll though my pen.

Something someone can relate to splashes onto paper; no guile, no posturing, just an honest description of a human dilemma. And when this happens, people relate, and I think, perhaps people relate to, and are refreshed by, writing that is real.

What a mysterious movement of soul water writing is. At times, words rise and swell and roll forth into inspired prose. Then, at other times, they lie still in one’s soul; no amount of conjuring can make them stir. The writer paddles out past the breakwater and waits, feeling depleted of creativity, exhausted in mind, threadbare of spirit. READ THE ENTIRE POST…