This poem was tucked away in a note book, in between some equally inspiring creative dreaming. It made me think of all of the creative workings we have tucked away in note books that never get to be seen....
PRAISE THE GODS
Don't praise me
Praise the Gods
Praise them because everyday
They watch over you
Like hawks of wonder
Whispering your sweet song
When you feel their tingling pulse rush through the cells of your animal
Don't turn away in haste
Instead, slow down and listen to what the moon beam wants to tell you,
And then write it down
Let your fingers be the transcribers
Of invisible wisdom
That flaps in the breeze
Asking to become known
On the sail of your pen
Let it trickle through your ancient bones
Until it oozes from the pours of your being
For surely, the gods want to be seen...
Silver Moon Poetry.