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I create letters, blends, sounds, spaces, waves... I've watched the play from childhood.  I remember how the play came, dreamlike, automatic... watched now from a distance I see the faint stirring of purpose in it.  There was a hidden singing not mentioned in the grammar books.  The unfolding syntax still looks magical as if by angelic help.  I think the humming bird does not question vibration; childhood is like that.  But now we come to divinity manifest in consciousness, and the meaning of it.

Before words, worlds, kingdoms, I am amazed.  Words spring spontaneously into sound, each as mysterious as my forgotten first word.  I cannot find the full depth of their silent origin anymore than I can find the full depth of space.  I know the subatomic structures of the brain do not yield the secret of words; their shapes and sounds are more spacious and multidimensional.  I follow the sounds, and am alive in the creation and in the origin.  I create with words and am created by them.  I feel their musical patterns move from spherical to complex geometries, becoming vital spinning stars, life forms, the shapes of thoughts in space.  I try to mirror the world of original patterns; it is impossible art, but full of joy.

Mysterious Words