after the workshop

no way back now

no way back to the

safe caverns of cynicism and

self-protection

burn that path

but see the shape of the

blackened twigs as they

snake back across the land

that shape

is my first mark

I pick up a piece of

burnt wood

and start to dance, and

draw, and sing 

my way 

across the universe

*

And a poem by David Whyte       http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s5i8Gv4lgEg