When I write
My muse whispers
Little white Truths
That alone harbor no meaning
But stitch a realm
Beyond here and now
***
What I write does not affect one or the other
But silently reflects Truth
I hold no knowledge that isn’t already known
For learning
Is to realize
The quest accomplished by another
Yet knowing
Is to pioneer
An intuitive quest of my own
***
I have a storyteller soul
That silently speaks
Through a language of shapes and forms
***
My thoughts and feelings
Bear no resemblance to my outward self
But resonate my one self
***
An ethereal being that changes form
From the slightest cosmic flux
Categories: Expression of Self, Poetry
Tagged: blogging, courage, Inspiration, intuition, life, muse, Poem, poet, poetry, spirituality, Story, Storytelling, Truth, writer, writing
A Renaissance Glow 
lovely.
Thank you, Vicki : ) It’s good to see you again! I hope all is well.