Where Water Goes

Although less than once I thought I might become, I am more than ever I thought I could be. For this I am exceedingly thankful. I have died more than one kind of death in passing. Died to childhood vision to become a deadly instrument of the world. Died to mortal weakness and fear in the name of greater strength. Died to the cares of this living through power of spiritual resurrection. It is to this end given voice in season. Graduating from University of California Los Angeles with a degree in Creative Writing, I become enlightened to the knowledge that mechanics of writing often contrary to creative style, which runs a course not completely comprehended through academia. Not to say that academia unimportant. It serves as a regulator to a force of potential, but is not the definitive abstraction of the source. Poetry is a spiritual manifestation in natural context, channeled through flesh and blood experience. It is, and is not thought, as defined by reason. It emulates from multiple strings of invisible forces designed on a grand scale of elevation existing outside the clock work precision of space-time eventuality. This is why poetry reflects in the elemental present, while at the same instant elevates immutably transcendent. It is music of the spheres.