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This is something that I wrote that is purely stream of consciousness writing. Does it mean anything? It might... or it might not.

BECAUSE IT IS SO


Night glances at my feet and springs in to being.
Starlight reflects on a chestnut in the air.
These words are no more than what I put down.
The robin sits on her eggs content in her ways.
Is inspiration causing me to write these words on paper?
Or is the stain on my wall the center of all creation?
And He smiles at us from where it is He is on a world that is no world.
Oragutangs and daffodils converse among each other as the rain falls, thought the ground is dry.
Is it here that my spirit writes these words?
Or is it both?
My eyes water as the music plays and no sound is heard.
My head spins from a swirling orchestral note.
And He smiles again.
I wasn't sure how to put this down.
Crabs dance a tango in the mediterranean sea.
I want to put down that I love, but there is no love for me to give.
So, I write my thoughts, my feelings, my hopes of making sense with myself.
Why am I in it, though I don't feel it?
Sunshine wakes me up from a sleep so real, I felt I never woke up at all.
I'm in control and it is He who controls me.
I find myself on a path to being what it is I wish I was.
Farther down, I see myself as I was, ahead as I will be in my path of choice.
I write, because it is so.
I feel, because it is so.
I see, and it is so.
I water the soil with my tears and I plow through my mind with a pen.
Because we are, it is so.
Because I am, it is so.

rws