Free Flowing Words

In solitude I sit
          so stilled . . . blank,
          yet the hand writes.

Words yet unknown,
          except what will flow
          in between each breath.

Lulled
          only with gentle stirrings,
          alerting me to aliveness,
          no other.

Be-ing
          just me alone,
          yearning for that other,
          it too unknown.

It is there lurking
          watching as I write,
          one word at a time,
          just letting it flow.

Nothing . . .  yet something
          as ink scrawls across each line,
          no longer looking like my hand,
          foreign . . .

“Who's this?”

          It is I,
          letting you know
          I AM . . . here,
          have been and will be,
          your eyes, your ears,
          that All-knowing.

         Feel My Presence . . . its been awhile.
         We remain connected
          in all and everything we do.
         It will continue because
         you have ME in your heart.

I pause
          to look,
          at these free-flowing words,
          to now read what was given.

          Tivonna
          December 2, 2015