I woke up this glorious morning with a soft whisper my ear.
Spring has sprung today, my Dear!
The sun is shining, and thou shall pick this day to clean up your clutter.
Yes, I do have to admit: I am a word hoarder.
My head is filled to the rim with an eclectic assortment of words collected during the travels of my years. For sure, some are keepers and shall be neatly filed in the archives of my mind.
They are precious and shall be crafted into beautiful works of art.
Yes, a wordsmith I claim to be.
In the recesses of my mind, I uncover my first words,
Given to me as a baby by the angels and the fairies:
Magical words of soothing love and of blessings, hope and well-wishing – still shiny and powerful.
I fumble for more treasures buried in the mumbo jumbo of my wordy possessions.
The task at hand is gigantic. What shall I dump, what shall I keep?
I shall decide based on their weight.
Do they serve the golden rule? Are they good, truthful, and beautiful?
Or are they fake and gold plated, lies in disguise and ticking bombs?
I keep sorting through the mess: it is littered with shattered words:
Broken promises; hurtful words hurled in anger; toxic wastes that left a stink, and an indent.
I shall sort through this garbage and recycle those letters that can be strung into new words:
Words of higher vibrations summoning beautiful emotions.
I shall happily sweep into a pile all the harmful residuals.
At nightfall, I shall strike a match and watch with delight the purifying flames engulf and dissipate the sad remnants of my junk pile. I shall sing and dance around the bonfire.
Yes, what a glorious day it was!
Anyas Spencer, Medford, Oregon, July 20, 2013