Turn the key

How a writer works
Is  God  turns their key
Then their eyes open
They say,I am me

How a writer writes
Is they  move their hands
Words form sentences
The flame is fanned

The hand and the mind
Connect   and words flow
The eyes look inwards
Where fertile winds blow

Land of images.
Starry skies and frost
Curious creatures
Unicorns long lost

A little white horse
O’Faolain saw.
I was riding it
I was filled with joy

I choose an image
Or it chooses me
Symbols  are  like wells
We dip and we see

Bring up the bucket
Let’s see what we caught
A starfish,a jewel,
No-one ever bought.
What is their story?
A starfish from sea.
Let’s move the jewel
Setting it free.

A child,a starfish;
A jewel ,a lady;
Lend me your ears
Come along with me

Children like to play
But ladies adorn
Themselves with treasure,
A man,  child is born?

 
Are eyes not jewels,
Long hair not  silk rain?
When the  man appears
Their love is unfeigned.
A white horse will dance
The pale strand is mine
Sunlit sea turquoise
The earth is divine

I am their star-child
Love gave birth to me
I am their jewel
Watch  me and you’ll see