"Either we respond to what the soul presents in its fantasies and desires, or we suffer from this neglect of ourselves. The power of the soul can hurl a person into ecstasy or into depression. It can be creative or destructive, gentle or aggressive. Power incubates within the soul and then makes its influential move into life as the expression of the soul." Care of the Soul, T. Moore.
The whitewater force of my soul rushes toward integration. Tuning the combative voices of my life into a melodic, harmonic choir. My incubation has endured a profound lack of topic, thwarting my expression. The stacking pressure of my soul's informants, however, demand expression: vivid dreams, waking fantasies, desperate diversions, comatose hiding, disquieted angst, fleeting flurries of hope, aimless imagination, idle hands throbbing for clay, loud-mouth friends preaching self-care. I cede my path the power of my soul.
I'd also like to think that soul power has something to do with channeling my inner-black woman, but that's another post.
Welcome fellow sojourners. My well is open. My shade I'll share. We'll eat what we hunt. We'll burn dry chaff and share stories only fire can conjure. The dessert is long and lonely. But, perhaps our illusions and mirages are the solace we require for the road ahead.
The whitewater force of my soul rushes toward integration. Tuning the combative voices of my life into a melodic, harmonic choir. My incubation has endured a profound lack of topic, thwarting my expression. The stacking pressure of my soul's informants, however, demand expression: vivid dreams, waking fantasies, desperate diversions, comatose hiding, disquieted angst, fleeting flurries of hope, aimless imagination, idle hands throbbing for clay, loud-mouth friends preaching self-care. I cede my path the power of my soul.
I'd also like to think that soul power has something to do with channeling my inner-black woman, but that's another post.
Welcome fellow sojourners. My well is open. My shade I'll share. We'll eat what we hunt. We'll burn dry chaff and share stories only fire can conjure. The dessert is long and lonely. But, perhaps our illusions and mirages are the solace we require for the road ahead.
4 comments:
Swish!! First Comment!
Also, this is a great pseudonym for writing... file under Mara, Iscah."
Sheesh, joel doesn't even comment on MY blogs anymore.
I forsee a great many sentence fragments in this arduous journey to get you into a structure that is readable.
But alas, my loud-mouthness takes over yet again.
Thomas Moore is a god.
klimt . . . i love klimt
Reading you is wonderful.
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