It’s 2011, and I am wandering again.  Deep down there are few things that I can hold onto without going insane.  My poetry, my writings, my scribblings… they are what hold my feet down long enough to learn the lessons that I’m supposed to be learning as I walk my path.  I pray often that the words aren’t my own, but I realise there is a dichotomy between the inspiration and the observation.  One is my eyes reacting to something that I may see or feel.  The other is the intrinsic palpable taste of being moved to a conclusion outside of my own feeble understanding.  So, I use the words that I find myself sharing as a roadmap to make sure I don’t lose my way or retrace my steps.  As I write, they are a comfort to keep my eyes focused not on my feet, but on the step ahead.  The times when I have been most silent, I have felt so far away from my Creator who I believe is the author of the Word itself.  Words transform us, and words transform the world around us.  That is why I write, why I dream, and why I keep trying.

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