Birth of the SpiritedPen

Restless spirit of little understanding
Seeking to emerge through the mind and hand,
Lay near dormancy within the breast,
On the edge of my imagination,
Conceived, slowly growing, but never emerging.

Occasional winds of the creative fanned the infant ember
Within the soul of the restless, throbbing heart
As ideas, words, and phrases swirled
In wispy circles, yet remaining unformed
Unripened or ready for harvest.

In the season of His choosing,
Tendered by a Holy Spirit within
Reaching out through the shell of the weakening chrysalis*
True gifts emerge as wispy circles
Clear and focused into their destiny.

Such was experienced by a now humbled writers
Shakily reaches out to grasp
The shimmering Excalibur** of the printed page, now redeemed,
Dancing voyages across a white sea, settling
Into the rhythmic patterns flowing through it.

Conceived and carried long within
The darkness of a soul, now set free,
By submitting the restless heart
Into the hand of the creator
That it might become the instrument of these words.

May the words flow forever
On ancient parchment of reader’s minds, remebered not
By the writers, but by the author
Who released it to accomplish His purposes
And allow us to Honor Him through. . .Our SpiritedPen
(Keat Wade, 8/3/02)
© 2002

* the hard-shelled pupa of a butterfly
** the sword drawn from the stone by King Arthur