Dew
The sweat of the Earth clings to my hands
Beautiful in its clarity and longing
The sun gently arises from the Orient
Bringing with her its patron colors and vibrancy
All about me are tears
The tears the Earth wept for Eve
Joyful tears, yet heart-rending in their silence.
The life of a writer is an endless striving to say what has been given us to say; to articulate the message written on our hearts in God's fiery hand. There is no erasing this message, and no matter how I may shrink from telling it, I am continuously haunted by my inability to say it with clarity. I may rip myself apart inside in frenzies of unworthiness, but somehow I always come back to that one rule of my soul: I must write. There is no turning back from this path, no running away, and all I can pray is that I never lose this inner passion, this heart's burning. I know I can write, I know I have talent, even genius, but my genius will come to nothing unless I can find the words to express it.
~The Dryad