Reading harold_maude's journal

This morning, I'm listening to wonderful classical music.
And as I listened the words began to flow with every note.
Ah how I love the creative process...and where it takes me..even when it's to something as simple as mud. :)

Sweet rain. bitter rain, fearful rain...a thousand types of rain.
Odes to their touch upon our soul and state of emotional existance at the moment.
Lover's rain. Pure rain. Rain filled with promise. And clouds pregant with rain.

The land starved and parched, unable to speak for lack of rain. Life giving rain.
Tormented rain, the face of a lost lover in every tear that falls.
Rain hiding the grief of one's soul. A tempered warm rain that makes you want to strip naked
and run free through the shower that fills the air, and takes dirt and makes mud.

An Ode to Mud

Oh glorious mud!
What squishing you offer
to loose my digintiy and defy
this thing called acting my age
and jump with abandon into your arms!
That is what you wisper
as you reflect the sky!

Oh glorious mud hole!
Deeper and wider than I expected
filled with possiblities!
To mud pie and castles
so fraglie
that when sun and wind come
and with brutish hand
deconstruct the creative act
that has caused me to build
with your guts and smile.

Oh glorious mud!
to you I sing praises!
To my tired bones
you are youth remembered
laughter with abandon
and an ivation to play.
Would that I take you up
in hungry hands
and let slippery sweet sucking noises
kiss my ears as I press you between
happy hands!

Mud!
What a great and wonderous thing you are!
Dirt, only just a while ago
Stodgey and dignified you sat
at my feet.
Reminding me with an air of properness
that dirt is not the thing to leave
on the kitchen floor...
And you would be right
if you were still just dirt.
But heaven said
"To day thou oh dirt
shall become a dream
and with rain I shall make thee fun!
An invation to loose adulthood
even for just one hour,
thoese people down there,
they take themselves
way too seriously!
So from dirt to mud
I speak thee changed!"
And poof!
There you are.
Glorious
Gooey
wonderous dreamy
shinie stuff
that makes that clean floor
alive with the memory of this day!

How I love thee oh sweet mud!
To roll in thy goo!
To stain with sweet laughter
your skin upon my flesh!
I am lost within your arms
sweet and glorious mud!
Ner to say upon this day
That I had missed your invation.
I do now, of sound mind
and freedom of body
jump high
so that I may land deep
and loose myself
completely
if only for a single hour
in thy sweet and cool repose!

It only looks that way because your standing on your head.