to dance in the rain

to dance in the rain
is to reign in the dance
of droplets of stardust
within the expanse

the droplets they tickle
they're warm to the touch
they drip from the heart
there's never too much

the rain it falls gently
sometimes it can pound
the beating of love
is where droplets are found

above in the meadow
bright lit from the sun
the rain it has stopped there
but within never done

So whether it's cloudy
or a bright sunny day
I can always go dancing
with the stardust at play

Writer's Block

Go out on your own!
How far can you go?
Then come back to Me,
And then it will flow.

Where to start?

Where to go?

Then, just as now,
and now, just as then,
You've always been blessed
with the gift of the pen.

And the Word.

And the Den.

But now, just as then,
And then, just as now,
You'll fail to proceed
You've not got the know how.

So you think.

You believe!

It’s fear that confounds you,
Trepidatious delight!
It brings forth the shadow,
Illumination de-light.

Obstructions!

They're blight.

The trouble's within you,
The flow, it's amiss.
The fear is the fractal,
The light gets remissed.

Ignored and

Dismissed.

Examine the options,
Consider them well.
When Love is unshadowed,
No fear there can dwell.

It’s gone and

Farewell!

And now that you know,
What’s the problem, the gist,
Find a tree in a meadow,
Settle down for some bliss.

A bathing.

A kiss.

And, then, when you're ready,
To let the Word flow,
Dismiss all your worry,
Relax, let it go.

Let it go.

Let it go.

Go down to the Cellar.
Go down to the Den.
Go down to the Pool.
The One deep within.

In the Now.

Not then.

In the glow that you find there,
In the pool liquid white,
Immersed in the glimmer,
You'll cease to have fright.

Pure Love and

Pure Light!

Down below in the shadows,
Underneath the great tree,
Find the silvery-haired gent,
With the eyes full of glee

Sitting down.

Sipping tea.

And then when you're ready,
To hear him sincere,
He'll speak with a rhythm,
With a tempo that's clear.

Hear the Word,

No fear.

He'll tell you a story.
A tale he will wend.
It's told as a poem,
From the start to the end.

Just hear here.

No pens!

And then when you're ready,
To write what you will,
Bring some ink and a book,
with some pages to fill

And some time.

Now 'til ________?

And then when you're ready,
To write what you will,
Be still in the meadow,
and let the words spill,

From the Light.

To the quill.