Am I the only one that sometimes writes from a place of mystery?
Most of the time, I have a purpose, and I write with intention.
Then there are times the words just slip onto the page from a place I am unaware of. I would say it’s my heart. I could call it my soul, but honestly I do not know the origin. Word after word, pours onto the page and fills up empty spaces I hadn’t even noticed was there.
I call it God.
What do you call this mysterious place of discovery?