Most days my mind is filled with the tedious minutia required for survival. Important thoughts such as buying food to fill a hungry belly and ensuring a warm clean place to live and sleep overshadow everything else. The mind is overcome with too much anxiety and care to consider the grandeur of the universe or the wonders of life.
But some days my mind has a chance to think beyond this moments need. It has a chance to consider the mysteries hidden in the ocean depths or the wonders of the universe that would bring a startled gasp from my lips. As I quietly ponder life, its meaning, its delicate beauties, and consider how glorious it would be to never more fear the steady march of time, my heart longs for the power to freely express itself, to share with others the wonder of the moment.
But as I reach for my pen, my heart bursting with enthusiasm, a stark reality greets me. The words I long to share seem so pale, so inadequate of conveying the musings of my soul. As I look upon the few lines of hurried scribble, my heart sinks as I realize the futility of my effort. The words that burned with in my heart, that soared up into the heavens like mighty sequoias, now appear like a scrawny tree capable of being toppled by a one handed flea.
It is this frustration and the struggle to share the innermost thoughts of my heart that inspired the poem, If I Could Write.
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