Inner Creative Universe Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Inner Creative Universe



Centers of the universe fill my mind with questions,
wanting to know what they consist of.

Physically made from gases, rocks, shale, granite,
etc, but what of the centers of our inner universes.

What exactly do they contain? Molecules, blood, cells?

It seems to be a vast void when I look at it from within,
spirit-guided, nothing seeming to be energizing it at all.

Looking at it all the time when writing, trying to
figure out where the bluened light that fills my mind
comes from when I write poetry.

Continually trying to find answers to my questions,
because I want to know.

Wondering if other creative people can see this inner
universe like I do, or not at all.

Saturday, August 22, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Daniel Brick 07 September 2015

WHERE THE BLUENED LIGHT THAT FILLS MY MIND /COMES FROM WHEN I WRITE MY POETRY. RoseAnn tel me more about this blue light accompanying your poetry activity. Poets as diverse as Georg Trakl and Wallace Stevens saw blue as the colorof the imagination

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Roseann Shawiak 07 September 2015

Daniel, I've talked to Tushar about this, he says people who are enlightened spirituall attain this bluened light when they go deeply into their spirit. Gurus attain it when they go into the mountains alone to think about God. For me it is sooo blue, beautiful, silent, no vibrations, no energy, it's a vast inner atmosphere where there are not thoughts, it is an emptiness where the mind uses itself, it's own creativity through intellect and writes from this spirit-filled bluened light. Tushar has been studying this blending of science and spirituality for quite some time now, other scientists are now doing the same, following his research. I do not know all the particulars, I have always written from this bluened light. It is so peaceful, so soothing, I am completely alone there. Even my senses do not respond to outside stimulation. I can be in the middle of a concert, a loud party, children running around screaming and yelling, yet I hear nothing. I keep writing until I am done, it could be minutes, hours or days. When I am done writing I look up, try to focus on my surroundings, it is almost like I have been asleep, dreaming, yet my mind is creating the whole time. I will send you a message with more information about it. Thank you for reading and commenting on my poem above. RoseAnn

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