Tonight’s prompt at the dverse pub is about drought & flood. Writer’s block kind of reminds me of both.
The Muse
About me settle swirling mists
Whose shape is void and formless
With words as soft as dawn’s first kiss
Yet till He breathes I’m speechless
Light breaks forth upon my deep
His Spirit stirs my soul
Living chords rise up to tease
Caught in His living winds
Lifted in the swirling breeze
Then the tide begins to ebb
The muse is gone again.
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ouch! but a beautiful flow of imagery, in both the stanzas….
Thanks Sumana
iF A muse were
a Monsoon to me..
it would be all the rain
from sky to ground the
gRound of gRains of
sAnd the sAme
and less and
more as
sTorm and Sun..
oh.. the muse A
endless muse
kNows
no neWs
oF dArk
but liGht
enthused
as fuse
aS
kEY..:)
How beautiful…A gentle read and enjoyed, blessings, Poppy…
Thanks for stopping by Ruth
I specially love this part: And His Spirit stirs my soul-
But the muse can come back, again Walt….
I know Grace,but about the time I do, He drifts away again (or I do) 😆
You had me with the title and the first line! Swirling mists indeed….
it could be fog, sometimes
Brilliant truth in these lines:
“Yet till He breathes I’m speechless
Light breaks forth upon my deep
And His Spirit stirs my soul”!
And then I loose track and it’s gone, thanks Lynn
Another great piece.
Thanks Arcadia Maria. Unfortunately that was yesterday’s prompt. My aoologies
This is so beautiful, Walter. In the Hebrew alphabet the first letter, Aleph, signifies that breath before creation, the intake of air before uttering the Word. It is not pronounced. The Hebrew alphabet is worth studying…it has so enriched me as a Christian. I will now go and read again.
Are you using a particular syllabus?
No, just picked up a few books on the subject. I will need to go look up titles. There was one by a Jewish scholar I liked a lot. Funny, but the symbolism of certain letters stayed with me. The aleph was definitely one of them and your poem really captured its essence.
Thanks Victoria, wish I could read Hebrew but I’m just barely got a grasp on English
Isn’t oh-so-true? How fickle can an inspiration get. When one is not ready, words and rhyme dance in his head but promptly disappears when he gets paper and pencil.
thanks Imelda