I write from the root of the bloom.  In all the messy, tangled places of my soul.  In the darkness that catches fire and spreads to seek the light.  In solitude that sniffs the air for bits of oxygen called words.

I write from the root of the bloom.  In a place no one knows.  Or can see.  Like love until it’s set free.  Mine unto paper. Smoothly and frantically.  Quietly out loud.

I write from the root of the bloom.  Boldly.  In stillness and wonder.  Sadness searches for words.  Joy finds them.

And I am transformed once more.







About drapersmeadow4

I am a writer, thinker, life-long learner, and philosopher of all things, who also happens to be Irish, sarcastic and very intuitive. I'm an 'every-aged' woman who never plans on growing up, just evolving as I go. Passion is my guiding force. My husband and I are enjoying life immensely in our Not So Empty Nest and beyond, by celebrating each and every day as it comes to us.
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4 Responses to THE ROOT OF THE BLOOM

  1. Sue Manos says:

    No words — just love this!

  2. lorriebowden says:

    Just beautiful…and so wonderful to see you!! Blessitude ❤

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