You are more

Words drip from me like the rain, like a long awaited storm. How the earth inside me waited. For years, I waited. My internal skin a desert. The barren skies raped of stars. The nights devoid of moon. Such was the darkness that I did not even see the clouds grouping together. Clinging to each other, waiting for the magic of the moment when they could no longer be expected to hold back what they longed to birth.

The first brave drop fell on its own. As first drops often do.
Falling as if it were navigating the beginning of life itself. Without knowing where it would land, without knowing that there was land.
But indeed there was a world awaiting what it could bring. The cracked and scared plain of my heart that would forever be transformed.
With the touch of that first drop on the seeds long dormant under the earth, my soul cried out.
And the rains fell.
How they fell.
And fell.
And fell.
Words.
Gorgeous fat drops of water like words, joining other waters until they became streams and the streams, rivers.

Perhaps it is not surprising that I thought I'd become these words. My very being nothing more than the sum of the rain. Romantic. Oppressive, but romantic.

Until she spoke, as she does, right into that place inside me that knows I am more. I have always been more. I will always be more.
"In this space, you are more than the sum of your words," she said.
And I reached into who I am and knew. I think she knows that about herself too. It doesn't stop the wanting. But we know.

Every creator is more than the sum of their creation.
Every writer, a person.
Every poet, a soul.
Every dreamer, a life.
Even if as yet, no one else knows. No one else walks with me. I know. And one day I will again be ready to share those places with another who might herself understand that she is more too.

What about you? Are you more?

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