I woke this morning with a feeling of dread and impending doom – couldn’t pin down why. I expect you’ve felt it yourself on occasion – like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff with a strong wind at your back. Here’s a Haiku to explain what I mean:
Tendrils reach through dreams
Sticky fingers on your soul
Wake up to what’s real
No… that doesn’t really describe it. It’s more like this:
Crow roosts on your dreams
Dread, the oil slick on your soul
Messenger from Hell
Still not right. Too dark. The dread always lifts when you get up and move, write and create, breathe and grow back into your skin after a restless night. So this is closer:
Black oceans below
Dreams beam sunshine on shadows
Water wings – dive in.
Journey Note for Writers: Writing is a great therapy. Use it.