Words had never intimidated me until recently. Words started to gain weight and lay shamelessly on pages I had grown to trust, eager to expose me and provide relief to whoever was seeking. Words slowly stopped being only mine and gradually belonged to others; using my experiences to tell stories and i sit here looking, reading in retrospect and watching as my words live on and out of my world and into yours. Knowing that, I decided to muffle myself and my words in turn would always be mine, never shared and never exposed.
I did not anticipate that that would come at the expense of drowning out my truest voice. Little did I realize that the words I used were never mine, because what is mine anyway and what is yours at the end of the day?
I write now, knowing that my words are travelers and that I no longer provide them a home, perhaps I never have. The music I had missed helps me find my voice again in hopes of catching a thread, a life line back into this empty space where you and I can leap in, without judgement without blame and say what we really mean because what else is there?
I let the writing happen through me, and I sit back and watch; ego and all, my humbleness and humility rooted in the ground; I become fingers and a beating heart capable only of singing at the top of those words that hell; belong to no one and everyone all at once.
So if you’ve been reading on with me, and living true with me, I say thank you because the space grows as we become better able to recognize one another between the lines and over the noise of everything that remains unsaid.
So pray for this world my friend and do not fret because nothing truly belongs to us after all, not these words, nor our faces or our lives. So trace your hand gently over everything you touch and remain honest and true, because what is work after all? what are words and promises and relationships but paths back into ourselves trying to find meaning and glory in the little things and in the greatest things?
So let this take form, and become something; let the world find its place inside you because in the contrast of it all; in the nonsense of it all- I write for you and through you to myself in hopes of remembering that here too in the constant shifting waves, we have a home.