Autumn Creativity An Ars Poetica

There is a tiredness in this hot autumn air, a drift toward sleep even in the daylight. But sleeping is no solution. Is it the body crying for healing, or the soul crying for comfort? Or perhaps both body and soul, severed from company with the mind, yearn to close that gap and restore their three-fold unity. Which cry should I answer first? Shall I summon dreamless sleep so that the body may curl into its own comfort and in deep unconsciousness regain its strength? Afterwards, I will occupy that amorphous expanse within where nocturnal currents fold and unfold and define the contours of the invisible soul. Words will pour forth from the mind and coalesce into incipient poems, taking place within body and soul, and be shaped according to the soil of their origins, those of body filled with the energy of earth, those of soul imbued with the grace of heaven. And the mind is the guardian of this creativity in its three-fold unity.