I’ve been writing morning pages
for seven months now
with no missed days.
The page was always there
in my notebook
Just patiently waiting
until I was ready to commit.
Imagine all the things
that lie dormant and in wait.
Waiting for motion,
Waiting for something bigger,
Waiting for the right time,
And I always held the key
Even if I forgot
Or temporarily lost it.
Once found, I used the door
To the page
And found myself waiting.
To be great,
To creatively express
And be an authentic version of myself.
And that is why I show up
Again and again
Because I’m the only one who can.
The Imagination knows no limits.
Sometimes it has a mind of its own.
It takes me to unseen places
and brings to life fantasies
that have never seen the light of day.
The Imagination is soft and wild.
It comes from a place deep inside
and longs to be expressed.
It is unconcerned about money, chores,
Earning a living or maintaining a home.
It is desire even unknown to me
Until it leaps out onto the page.
My hands moving swiftly
Making marks on the pristine paper.
It is in my child’s mind
As she creates stories, conflict, and magic
Recreating a story or a movie
to her understanding.
The Imagination is not looking to adhere
to standards of what is good or acceptable.
There is no grade-point average to attain.
The Imagination thrives on space to express
and room to grow.
its edges unending
and terrain always an adventure
awaiting to be expressed.
My inner songbird sings
that which she cannot bring
to light from the dark
and all that can be marked.
To be alive and free
expressing all of the emotions in me.
I do not know what I'll say
until the moment in the day
When the creative muse appears at the fore
remembering her inspiring visits from before
I long to express what's inside
and to be safe in my stride.
I want to feel ease and peace
the joy and magic of release
Those words that are meant to be said
once I get them out of my head.