Tonight I opened Evernote. I re-read notes I made this afternoon while attending an event. The only way do to it justice to use what I heard, what I learned, what I felt.
I captured, I emoted each note with hearts and stars and questions. I stole scraps & bits & sparks & glimpses of the one story we are all telling. I read them again, and a fire lit and it blew out and it smoked and I choked on how close I was to it.
So I stepped back to my stack, I even keep my digital notebooks that way, flipped keys through the newest bits of the latest you who the universe saw fit for me to capture. And something clicked from the swirl of today, and yesterday, and the moment the night before that gave me this gift, a single line spawning her empire, written, rearranged once already, becoming a third edition that took it all in. A memory revised, revived, resized to fit more.
I tossed and toiled, cutting and pasting, consulting mythic stories written in stars, letting the thesaurus become my oracle, understanding what the fuck I was trying to say, finally, and saying it. Saying it aloud. Hearts hearts, she loves it. And that, sweet poem, is how you were born.