The Pages of Creation
I write upon the pages of creation,my words seeding the infinite void with embryonic lives of infinite potential, spilling into the world, black on white.
In each moment of life we are gifted with the inviting brilliance of a new page.
It is ours to write anything we chose upon.
In its whiteness lies the power of redemption, the force of renewal and re-creation.
Upon the shining blankness of the page, we see the raw material of the universe, the energy of creation.
Upon this page, we may chose to reconcile the past, heal the present and unleash the infinite creativity of the future.
Upon this page, we may chose to hurl the world into darkness,prostituting our words in the service of a twisted ego, a sadistic, perverted mind,revealing one of the many corrupt faces of evil in this world.
In our words we hold the mirror to our souls.
In each clear and shining moment, we have a choice.
We may scratch the surface meanly with our spiritually miserly pen and ink, leaving only an ugly jagged trail, spoiling the beauty and purity of the page.
We may scarcely leave a perceptible mark, writing with the invisible ink of life blood diluted by fear, timidity, deference and hesitation.
We may throw ourselves joyfully, unashamedly in abundant abandon upon the page.
We may leave playful, exuberant, effervescent, emphatic paw prints upon the pristine paper.
We may pirouette in the spotlight of our words, craving the eyes of the world upon us, betraying the redemptive potency of our words, for forty pieces of sparkling silver applause.
We can chose to sell our words to a world ready to devour more darkness,cheap at the price but heavy in cost to our souls.
We can chose to be the creators of the universe and in the image and likeness of our words, our world becomes a place of abundant joy, overflowing love and deep connection to the purity of spirit.
Words have power. Chose them wisely.
What will you chose to write upon the face of creation?
What world will you weave with the tapesty of your words?
Once upon a time I was a fat little caterpillar whose contented munching was disturbed by visions of bright wings flying free in a world beyond the cabbage patch. When my caterpillar form could no longer contain that dream I entered the Chrysalis where thought became form. This is my journey.Walk with me.This is simply who I am.
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