Every day we create.
We seek newness, rawness, edge.
We’re seekers beyond the ordinary.
We create from juicy ripe red desires.
We create words, books, coffee dates,
trips to buy organic produce, paintings
splashed with orange vibrancy.
We seek to create beyond What Appears.
We’re not satisfied with sitting on the couch.
We seek, we create, we’re mini-gods like Zeus-Michael
and Aprodite-Jennifer and Artemis hunting her
next fix, her next dance, her next amazing
Caesar salad for dinner.
Oh how we create!
We were born to create.
We reach for TV Kingdom and create stories
to burrow before bedtime.
We turn on the computer
and create in Facebook, in WordPress, the
words dribbling from our fingers,
painting word pictures,
pirouetting like the best ballet dancer,
oh look at us humans!
Born to create, born to create, and how we
Look at yourself, Sister.
Look at yourself, Brother.
You’ve created an entire life, you mini-god,
you angel, you devil, you dabbler.
You keep creating something extra,
some trip to the South Seas,
that hot soothing cup of coffee,
ever the next creation and the next and
Until one day, one fine moment which isn’t
past or future
you clearly see creation for what it is–
You’re the last creator then, or the first.
If you try to stop creating,
If you try to resist your desire,
it balloons and you’ll heroin-fix yourself big time.
You see creation for what it is:
big, glorious, magnificent,
small, unnecessary, completely beside the point.
Creation was here before you wrote
Anything you add is delightful and
truly not needed.
It was never needed.
What exists before your poem,
before you reached to read this poem,
before you poured your coffee,
before your creative mind conjured
verbs to escape this already-perfect moment?