I lay here on my bed writing because for the very first time in so long, I must write. The earth would tremble beneath my feet, the winds would spin chaos around my heart, and the skies would burst with the energy of trillions of stars collapsing if I did not release my pen.

I lay here amid a glorious mess – yes those are the exact words that came to mind just moments ago as I looked around me.

There are pieces of paper in all colors and designs, some neatly placed in their bindings and some in torn pieces scattered about. There is glue and scissors, rulers, and pens. They cover my bed and my desk and even the floor.
If I were in my right mind, my logical mind, I would be aghast at the mess that lies before me. But my logical mind has no power here and instead as I looked around at my glorious mess, my heart leapt with joy as giddiness filled my entire being.

This is the glorious mess born of creation! My beloved words found a home here as I cut and glued, colored and arranged. And oh, the joy and peace I found!

My creations will never grace an art gallery or museum. Some are crooked and the colors don’t perfectly match. Others are misshapen and torn and had to be glued properly together. But when you stop and look, when you read the words, there is beauty to be found.

And for a moment, I stopped to think of the glorious mess that is me within the creation of my life and my heart and I became giddy once again.

At times there is a mess that surrounds me, from all the tearing and gluing, searching for the right color or design; but there is still beauty to be found in the glorious mess that is … I.

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