It used to be easy

Sitting down at the keyboard and just letting the words come

Often I wouldn’t know what I was writing about until the words took some form

Some shape of their own

Their own direction

I could let them spill out of my fingertips into my computer

and they would appear

before my eyes

Did I write this?

Are these really my thoughts?

Do I believe all of these ideas? These sentiments?

Yes, I suppose I do.

They don’t come from my head

They come from my heart

Or my soul

My spirit

Or maybe just from my fingertips

Do my fingertips have something to say?

Some deep message that they need me to hear?

Maybe they wish to be my guide

Maybe they are in revolt

Thinking that the brain and the heart and the soul have all had their turns

at guiding me

Have all had their turns

at leading me astray

So why not their turn?

Why not let them try?

See what they say

See if they make any more or less sense than the other parts of me

who have all had a go at helping me to make decisions in my life

So here I sit

Prisoner to the thoughts and ideas

That simply flow through my fingers

Not in charge of anything

Just going along for the ride

and waiting to see

what those knowing hands

have to teach me