The hidden poets


I’ve been writing this blog for the time of dot in the infinity of the universe (that’s precisely four days) and already, it’s freed something in the ether.

Opening up in this infinitesimal way has lit up something for other people too. This tap on the shoulder from my soul has unconsciously touched at other people’s inner whispers.

In this time of pinpoint-on-a-dot, someone has given me their memoir to read (it’s electric), someone has given me their short stories to edit (they fizz) and someone else has shown me their poems (they are life, set to music).

This is not coincidence. This is what happens when you begin to open yourself up to the consciousness within. We are all connected to something so pure and so unsullied that when we even venture near it, in however small a way, our world starts to explosively bloom, like the first fierce flowers of spring.

Like bees to honey, people cannot help but be attracted to someone else who is connecting to their soul. They don’t know why they are giving up their glorious goods now, they don’t know why that now is the time to start telling people about their work and to start talking about it, but they feel compelled to. Gently.

The hidden poets come out. The people with stories they need to tell, the people whose music is being pulled into the universe.

Our songs to the world.

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