The Soul who writes, dares to loosen the hand of himself,

allowing his "grains of sand" to fall free between his fingers.

Grains ... as committed words to paper.
This Writer Soul, rejecting the comfort of anesthetic,

grasps the scalpel with his own brave hand, and cuts . . .

Using the pain and all the tissue, bone, muscle and skin of his life,

as strength to steady his hand,

while the sharp edged blade probes the valve which dams his flow.

He writes ... releasing the very blood stream of his heart.

He creates .. shaping the letters, forming the words;

words ... alive by ink marked against the page.

The "Writing" .. still a part of the writer,
is now ...  and entity of its own.

An Entity . . . alive and separate . . . able to speak,

to whisper, weep, shout, sing, confess, promise, confide and hate,

to worry, dream, convince, love and live on its own !

A New Creation !
Bless the Soul who Dares to Write.

Dallas Beth Williams Gibson

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