Drop the hesitation. . .

Quit the tortured,
stuck kvetch. . .

And enter in
your fluid process of creation–

Dare let go
the “How? How? How?”. . .

Take one deep breath,
inner centering,
to allow,

Think, “Ready, Set. . .”
Do! Do! Do! . . .

For it’s only then
’twill be
the path rolls forth
to fully show
itself to you. . .

And once you see,
you’ll find the way,
maybe so easily
you won’t even have
to vow
(or pray),

And the thing
you’ve so long
wanted, waited for
will become yours. . .

So, go!
For it is right within your reach,
not yesterday,
nor at next dawn,
and nor even
slightly far away,

Here, here, here,
Now, Now, Now!

though you are a little scared,

to middle size
that nagging fear
will soon be pared,

once you get started–

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substance first
and let it grow solid,
as you form it,
with a touch you hone
as it becomes rehearsed enough
that your light streams
much better through it
that it could
from your nature’s raw materials alone,

though the aching plainness
and rigid discipline
at first
feel to your bright creative process
so accursed.

once substance
and its structures
are generated,
and firm gathered,

can you
more aptly start
start to craft embellishments
in such a way that they express
as well as suit
your inner mood,
and sculpt your style,
or whatever else that matters,

with your trademark brand
of generosity,
to take that basic skeleton
which stands sturdy, supplely,
and make it timely,
fitting to a tee
what you deem relevant,
with whatever stuff
you muster up,
with which
to have it further plastered,
molded, etched or slathered.

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Of all the options
with which an ailing person
may be blessed,

if one could choose only one thing,

spare the infusions,
salves, medicines and deconcoctions,
though these, some days,
might do some good
in their careful, measured using,

one would do better,
when put to this more frugal test,
to act in line
with some paternal musing
that’s told us rightly,
“Rest is best.”

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Eye for an eye.
An arm and a leg.
Price very high.

But, higher still
to have good enough aim
to build
for oneself
a good oeuvre,
which serves many others,
and is a sound hut
(eschewing the allure
of the hot lean-to glut
of cheaply bought fame
that could make you a name)

For that hut
that stands as your oeuvre,
your own very best,
is priced
not at an eye,
nor an arm and a leg,
but higher still yet,

for its cost
is your soul
and your heart,
and your life,
yea, your all,

but it’s the prize
most worth buying,
though the order’s
most tall

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Your life–
make it yours.
Make it now.

Once you have
dreamt up the what,
the Universe will help
you solve the how.

It’s not like
any of those standard
package tours,

though its rewards
rank with the best
by any savvy tour provider,
or deft stock broker’s
brightest rising stars
or anchoring cash cows.

And you can make it
as you go,
and watch it grow
from its deep
and wide-outstretching roots,
through trusty trunk,
and branches brave,
up through its magic
highest bough.

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Don’t give in.
This body
and this world
you live in,
they may live slow
but they ARE alive.

If to and fro
their forces
your spirit
each which way,
and ruthless,
to the winds,
to throw,

so you can’t help
but feel
it’s time to yield,
retract yourself,
go numb,
succumb. . .

when, in fact,
for you to conjure up a better option,
all you really need to do
is just take five.

that stretch
of so few minutes,
as long as you stay breathing in it,
will be enough
to make a difference
seeming infinite,

for it allows you
to uncurl your body bowed
to straighten out
and choose a better road,

on which you ditch
the mode
of merely vying to survive,
once you just leave
that busy hive

and learn to find your
own true path
where you
with grace and ease
do thrive.

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Whatever is absurd
for you to quit,
for it’s your work,
your love,
your word,

let not be seen
nor spoke
nor heard
designs of anyone or anything
that would ever
sway you out of it.

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