Do you sometimes resist the muse’s urgings to create, telling yourself, later, next time, I don’t feel like it?

I do. Sometimes. Sometimes more often than not.

Sometimes, morning calls me to dive into the deep well of poetry flowing within like an endless silent river. Sometimes, still sleeping, I resist. And then there are those days when, the muse’s irresistible urgings to awaken, open my heart to the words not yet written. On those days, I follow, blind faith my only guide to unleash the poetry pouring up from deep within me, calling out for freedom. It is in that surrender that I discover the paradoxical beauty of the present: lost in the flow, yet ultimately found within its graceful unfolding.

In The Moment
by Louise Gallagher

I awaken
dawn breaks 
     open 
         the rest of my life 
whispering
               deep 
the muted backdrop
of tomorrows
     hide       
beyond the horizon 
         invisible              
they drift 
                holding still
passing days 
    shrouded 
by the unknown 
moments ahead.

In this present 
moment-by-moment
spent
    breathing
        loosening 
yesterday's hold 
              clinging 
like a barnacle to a whale 
                      dreading 
their release 
into life's swirling currents
I find myself
    lost
        and found.

Awake 
    asleep 
time slips by 
     indifferent 
to my eyes
  open 
     shut
eyes that see 
           the past
   more clearly 
than the blur 
    of all my unlived days
         clamouring
to hold me 
     present
in this moment
of awakening.