We are the words

"We are the words; We are the music; We are the thing itself." -- Virginia Woolf

Writing words has always been in the consciousness of my own creativity. First visualized and then written and then written again but in a different direction and again in a different direction and so on and so on. A word design appears of these words too difficult to speak and too jumbled to be put together to read. Nevertheless they are my words put out of my head and mouth to be added to the universe of words of the soul.

"There is no doubt that in my mind that I have found out how to begin to say something in my own voice." -- Virginia Woolf

Creating Something

This a simple observation but on mornings like this my heart is laughing adolescent-ly at the thought of making something new--joy that I can do this. The thought of new or old words repeated in a row of color and dance or black and mourning or somewhere in between gives perspective--releases immediate view. A way of wording words. Stopping the reading as the reader looks up re-putting the words in the back of his brain until he finds a connection of memory or not.

A tango's turn

Within the thunder
of the beginning of all things
color struck
and again came more
on top of the first
that dropped to the
bottom
echoing the slide
to the middle
wherein lived word
lit from letters
that introduced color's
beauty and blessing and art
from which raindrops fell
like sounds of bells
and between here and there
music merged
though unknown in this place
even so it was heard
in note and harmony
in time and rhythm.

Color and Word and Music
moved around each other
into and out of
shadows
blending and bobbing
between spaces
becoming movement
inviting dance
underscored in poetry and
hummed into tune
as strangers swooned

and swayed and
within a tango's turn
stirred love
the necessary
ingredient
within the thunder
of the beginning
of all things