What do you do when the inspiration runs out, when the song stops playing? Please stop by and listen to Plato read his beautiful new poem: The Word made Flesh.
The Word made Flesh
Where did the music go
What does the poet do when the Song goes silent
He must wait and listen
There are empty spaces in all compositions
A foundation of silence, of stillness, which makes all else possible
Without the empty still spaces movement is random and vibration noise
Is is not a horrible thing
There is no reason to be afraid
Only wait and listen for Her cadence, Her rhythm
That is your Soul’s Groove silly forgetful man
She will return again as She wills
She is not a creature tamed and trained to do tricks for others
She is alive and wild like the wind
When She moves raise your sails and let Her fill them with Her
Ride the storms of Her, feel the touch of Her cooling breezes on your skin
When She is quiet you are not abandoned, it is only a punctuation between the next Word waiting to be spoken
When She is still remember that even your breath is filled with Her
In Her you live and move and have your being
She has stirred and taught and moved and awakened your sleeping Self
The inner world has grown and now awaits the poet’s action
Her stillness is a signal that there is Outer work to be completed, a new balance to be discovered
She moves at the will of the Creator continually calling forth the intention of you
A new creation, a path in the wilderness, a spring in the desert manifest on the material plane awaits
The Outer life can be a trap and a trick, but so too can the labyrinth of the Inner
Her rhythm seeks harmony and balance, consonance
Her movement calls you in, Her stillness sends you out
It is never either/or but Both
The Word spoken from before the foundations seeks It’s incarnation in you
Impromptu Promptlings 
A beautiful poem 🙂
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Yes, it really was, wasn’t it. 🙂
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