I know it's been several months. A year? Nah. Not that long. Surely not.
What matters is that I bring it back, this thing called purging of the soul. What did Hemingway say? "There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."
I came to bleed. Bleed my thoughts, my blessings, my fears, my memories, my dreams, my life as I know it now. Pieces. Bits and pieces at a time until I find my rhythm again. To try to catch up where I left off in one -- even a few, or a handful of posts -- is far too overwhelming.
A day at a time.
A dream at a time
A word at a time.
While I find my way back home to my heart's whispers.
Hello. I'm home!
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