my own

{via pinterest}

there are plenty of mornings when i have no idea what to write about. it might just be one of the most frustrating things i have ever and will ever encounter in my life.

writing is my life. my pillow is words and my tongue is prose and my clothing is poetry and my blood is ink and inspiration.

and so when it is illusive, i feel as though i am missing. melting. a fog being sieved by the rocks and trees and mountains of this very real thing called life.

i look at this world and think

how can i not write? there is so much here. 


and in my dreams, inspiration comes. in those last moments before slumber overtakes, my mind is full to overflowing with this and that and so so so much richness that comes in the fog of dreaming while awake.

but then i awake, and i have lost it all.

inspiration is less frightening that i wish it was, i think.

 i wish i had a reason to be afraid of knowing this light. because there is power in this light, and it's my calling to bring it here.

His wish. 

share My words, dearheart. 

and it's frightening. because this is big.

i sit, quilts tangled and sunlight streaming. voices calling nonsense from the street below.

{via pinterest}

and i touch the play on my pandora and let the music envelop.

i let the phone ring, and press my best friend's voice to my ear as she spills life and pain and confusion and delights into my waiting soul...because she's good at that for me.

i soak myself in life. 

this melody of inspiration that never stop flowing, the one i just have to reach out and touch.

so i run fingers back through tangled locks

and smile.

i need Your grace

to remind me

to find my own.

{linking with laura -- this playdate with the King}