Sometimes I wonder why I do this. Why, of all of the things that there are in the world to write about, why…. would I voluntarily choose to write what no one reads? Because nobody reads poetry. Writing poetry has never made anyone wealthy. The obvious answer is that I did not choose it. Like, I didn’t choose my eye color. I probably could, if the effort were applied, write brilliant fiction. But that is not my lane or my passion. I probably could, if the effort were applied, create the most fascinating technical manuals.  But that doesn’t fill me with joy.
Possibly plays.
Possibly self-help.
If the effort were applied. But anything other than poetry feels like work to me. I love to read it, I love to write it and it really doesn’t make much difference to me if anyone else feels the same way about it.
This is why I do this. Because I have to. I need to. I want to. The point is that we all should figure out what we really love to do during our short time here, and hell or high water, deliver.  Just for you. Just because. Nothing else feels quite as exhilarating as reaching your own personal goals. So at the times that I wonder why I do this, I remember that I won’t be here forever and this is my way of saying that I was here.
This is my way of coping with reality. This is my way of expressing what I find to be universal truths. This is my whole entire life. And I am in love. No profit margin, no billboard with my face plastered on it, and no line in a bookstore for signatures could top being in love with yourself through your artwork. I truly hope that everyone finds their “thing” and goes for it. I hope that I can inspire others to do just that. Thank you for visiting my page. Thank you for reading my blog. Thank you for buying or sharing any of my poems. Thank you for letting me be me.

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