From Where?

woman writing in journal

Ideas tumbling forth
like ripples over rocks
a rushing stream
words, phrases, sentences
profound ideas, silly ones, too
come faster and faster
pen flies across the page
to give substance before
they slip away

Where do these words
come from each morning?
Who guides this hand
who places these poems
in this empty head
still loggy with sleep
so early in the morn?

Am I a captured slave
or willing creature
blessed
for surely these
words guide me each day
before I share them with you
binding us forever
with the wisdom
of love and compassion
humor and tears
a poem, a prayer, a promise

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