Refuge. That is the one word describing my writing, which has been a refuge for my creativity. It’s like an iceberg with blue tint of sky reflecting through transparent white ice floating in the ocean. The swells around me increase in height and frequency yet I have my writing as my life raft. I am clutching to it and explore my creativity. I am exploring an ocean of unknown. I don’t know what I’m capable of. I sometimes wonder how did I survive in the ocean without fresh water to nourish me. How did I survive for so long suppressing my creativity? This is the beginning of my story, my writing, and the beginning of myself reviving my creativity, which had burnt down into a smoldering ember. I now have lungs of the East Gorge Winds and blow new breath into the embers, igniting it. The fire is roaring awake like a tiger consuming oxygen. I will continue on my journey, and look ahead to surprises as I discover myself, and the art that will surface from within. So far, I’m enjoying the ride. Being on raft in the ocean is not so bad. Having creativity is enabling me to create a world that will someday land my raft in a place and life I want to be living.
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