Why I don’t Write

Do I write for fun?
Or when the power of words hit me?
Do I write to process, to understand
The beauty of things that surround?

Would I write if energy was freely given,
Flowing to me in a continuous
And purifying rain of words?

If the bones in my hand didn’t ache
As I typed
And my heavy head wasn’t throbbing
From buried pain?

If my day wasn’t congested with
Chores and human frailties
Could I produce
A brilliant new world?

Or would I still sit here, wilting
Creativity dripping down the
Sides of my face
Not knowing how to come back from all this madness?

Photo Credit: Wouter de Bruijn via Compfight cc