I figured the only way to get you back was to write about you. For months I’ve summoned your presence but you’ve refused to materialize, leaving me in a painstaking state where I’m unsatisfied and intimidated by my writing. You have to know how much I’ve been aching for you to strike, to fill my heart again, to work through me and use me as your vessel to unleash the words that need to be written, that can’t be contained and can only flow through your graceful, piercing, and powerfully creative elegance.
There’s no controlling or dictating you. I can’t just wake up and decide for you to anoint my mind, heart, focus, and fingers. You’ll show up when you want you to, and I’ll have no say in the matter. For all I know you’ll wake me up a week from now at 4:00 a.m., shaking me out of a dream, or in a moment with a person in some matchless setting that ignites my inspiration. But there’s no holding you down, no way to bottle or contain you. You’re wild, rudderless, and untamed.
But you’ve flowed through me so many times. You chose me at a young age, I had no say in the matter. You just showed up and started working through me. So don’t leave me now. What am I without you? Pierce my being once again so through you, the vessel that is me can get into a groove and write with joy, thrill, and confidence the words you wish to release.