I haven’t written much recently.
I was busy with the launch of Strange Things From Uranus on Amazon Kindle and Paperback. Then I began editing Trans-Uranic Elements: The Dark Side of Uranus.
Then my blood pressure spike to the point called Hypertensive Crisis.
Why? Teaching full time, working every evening on my books and my Internet Business and dealing with a financial hangover from my divorce and a new demanding partner…
So I came back to Rumi.
Who Says Words With My Mouth?
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.
This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I’ll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I’m like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?
Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn’t come here of my own accord, and I can’t leave that way.
Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.
This poetry, I never know what I’m going to say.
I don’t plan it.
When I’m outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.