What it Means to Me

I take a slow, deep breath and I wait.

My eyes flutter shut as the world around me disappears.

The light from the sun shines golden behind my eyelids as I slowly breathe in and out.

A warming calm seeps through my body and I feel it coming.

A slow smile spreads across my face as the grip on my pen tightens.

I'm on the brink; waiting for what I know is to come; that magical force I've always had that appears when I need it.

A force unseen guides my hand as it glides over the paper, leaving its mark.

Each word is love, knowledge of my soul's mind expressing truth.

These words are my essence; as they slowly leave my body to become thoughts frozen in time.

I sit back, looking down at the finished script feeling a little sad.

I can not describe what it means to me to see my creation in all its glory in front of me.

It seemed only to take a moment, this jewel of my heart.

For a moment I feel drained, my essence seemingly gone from my body.

But then I remember.

I remember that my essence ebbs and flows like the tides of the great oceans; it always comes back and fills the space left open.

And like the waves, I am left with the assurance that my words will flow out and be caught up in someone else's heart.

To make them laugh, to make them cry, to make them have a better understanding of life.

To touch a life, there is no greater accomplishment.

So I give you up, my words, in the hope angels carry you far.

Ride gently upon their wings and fall gracefully to this earth.

Let them be heard, so people may know, just what writing means to me.