Whispers of an Inward Music

It has to be part
Of your life.

You can’t draw
Enchantment
From a polluted well.

I’m not saying
Be perfect—
I'm not,

But writers
Need compassion
And sensitivity to pain

And to isolate

Because it’s in the desert
Where you open
Your heart

And write down
What the Voice
Is whispering.

Priests of old
Were unblemished…
But you can be flawed

You can write
About monsters,
And not be one—

Not if you want
To write about love.

Everywhere you look
The universe
Is open;

Succumb.

Pay attention to life
When the world
Is asleep
To its beauties and truths;

Allow yourself
To become enchanted;

Loosen your dreams
And become undone.