I could describe it as a daily wish. Possibly even a prayer if I stretched the hand that held my pen high enough that I may get a little inspiration.
But it’s really more of a craving.
This insatiable hunger that I just can’t shake.
It rattles me until I am dizzy and I think too much and I cannot think anymore so I just go to sleep instead.
But if this desire was easily attainable,
well,
would I think it a blessing?
I am already cursed.
If I could just place some sense in my words,
if they could flow from page to page and
stick to minds and bind to hearts
I could make tears dry and souls catch fire and
lover’s eyes lock,
well,
would I have done my job?
If I could only stop feeling so fast.
Maybe my words would come out with more eloquence
More reliability
More talent
More energy
but then,
What else would I have to wish for?
Can anybody hear me out there?
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