Writing is a very cathartic process for me that too often I don't make time for. The effect is the same whether it's authoring a poem, song, novel or even a simple blog post. I have a theory about writing. Well, really about any form of art. While I know that art is completely subjective and my humble opinion may not matter it is this: that the act of creating art is a way of expressing ones soul to oneself, even if one is not so skilled at it. In my mind then, it is the best, most true form of art which makes no sense at all, except to the artist.
In the moment it's not about what others will enjoy or if anyone else will relate. It's about bringing to life, in words or rhythm or visual interest, those thoughts that rummage around in the corners of your mind, sneaking down hallways then knocking down walls and putting up Christmas lights.
In the pursuit of greener places I am realizing that it's all about perspective. That where you are is not as important as what you choose to think about where you are. That letting go of things you cannot control and holding onto the One who controls all things is where it's truly at. With all that going on in my head I felt the need to write some serious nonsense. So here it is.
The synapses crackled and snapped as they sparked. My hand was on the door so I threw it wide open and shivered as a cool breeze slipped my mind. I turned to silence the phone but those words turned my veins to streams of ice. The cells froze in a frenzy and climbed backwards through my bloodstream, overtaking my heart as it crystalized mid-beat. A name that I recognized but a voice that was distorted by a layer of panic. It took too long. My brain could not connect the blinking marquis dots before the words shot from the receiver and blew my mind. I took a breath and padlocked the door I had opened just moments, or maybe it was a lifetime, ago. Back when I was still free, still an innocent and when a young family's mother was still breathing.
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