"God has given you a golden tongue and silver fingers,
instruments for speaking and writing beauty and purpose.
Use them well."
~ one of my favorite readers, writers and loves, whose name shall remain Anonymous
She reminded me of what I love by telling me what she loved about me.
It was unexpected, a concentrated potion. Stream of ink spilled on a page, in an order just so,
to me and
a logos celebration.
Prophet, truth teller, joy bringer, she wove and watered and I soaked in and sopped up.
Writer and reader,
giver and taker.
I gulp it too fast the first time so I drink again and then again. A drop overlooked is precious waste.
Haste never serves a banquet well. Every morsel is delicacy, a tongue's delight, lung's oxygen. A heart's lifeblood.
She believes the dream, the crazy one, the dream that stayed sleep, daring it to come. The one stained in fiery passion, gossamer hope. She names it Important and Necessary.
She names the dream. Does that mean it's born?
The page smears, the fault of raintears. Is the page really wet or are the eyes simply flooding?
Doubt's trickle and fear's deluge threaten to slosh out her fire. They don't know that kind of power is inextinguishable.
She has no idea. No idea….
Do we ever when we speak as a prophet?
She tells me who she is as if I don't know. She fails to see what I already do.
She has golden tongue and silver fingers.
A song she sings to another but writes for herself.
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Thanks to all of you who're reveling in my 50th Birthday Blog Bash; I'm grateful for every entry because each is a thank you to those who contributed so generously to this little party.
But to everyone else who grows weary of daily giveaway postings? This one is for you…and her.