My hand moves across the page
guided by a force
an impulse outside of myself.
I can feel a subtle flow
from my crown
down my arm
to my hand.
This pure, intelligent knowingness
speaks into my mind;
informs my hand.
I watch awestruck
in virtual disbelief.
My Self watches as this body
obeys an energy from outside itself
Peace flows along with the words.
A gentle, coolness fills my chest
soothing me
dissolving apprehension.
So I trust
yielding my hand to the One
that created it.
And then just as gently as it began
it ceased.
Like a slippery fish
the energy flitted away
leaving me quietly euphoric
wondering when again
it will take my hand.
Evelyn Bourne
Copywrite 2011


2 comments
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February 21, 2011 at 1:54 pm
Lisa
Yes, this sums the experience right up. Beautiful poem, Evelyn!
February 21, 2011 at 5:48 pm
Lovenia
How awesome Evelyn! Lovely poem.