(no subject)
I was once asked why I write and even more importantly how I write the way I do. And first, of course, I had to ask myself: how do I write? Is there a message that I try to render or is there deeper meaning that is to be revealed through the text? Because, typing letters, words, scratching miscellaneous phrases on napkins and paper menus at the diner cannot be all that significant; I’ve never thought about other’s opinions of these words as weighted with so many hovering questions. And as I thought about it--why do I write the way I do?--all waterfalls of reason, reflection, and contemplation trickled down into tiny streams of realization that ended at the very same point.
Words are about thoughts and thoughts are about feelings--feelings from the heart, or more importantly from the soul, from that place deep down inside that you can’t explain but know is there because it hurts sometimes and laughs sometimes and cries sometimes, too. And so I must say, that the way I feel sometimes cannot be just said as normal external conversation is said, because the emotion is internal; the feeling is too poetic by nature for that. So I have to write a poem about it, because is means something more to me than just prose. The river runs deeper… Although, prose, the way we speak everyday, can be beautiful, a certain light must shine upon it, or the meaning leaves the words, and the feeling is dead. So then, because poetry is life, and life is all that exists, or existed-life is the dead and the living-poetry is also. Poetry channels the soul and thoughts and the mind and the heart; prose does not allow me to fly as freely.
And so, it seems as though I write because I feel I need to keep feeling alive, or I myself may wither away.
Words are about thoughts and thoughts are about feelings--feelings from the heart, or more importantly from the soul, from that place deep down inside that you can’t explain but know is there because it hurts sometimes and laughs sometimes and cries sometimes, too. And so I must say, that the way I feel sometimes cannot be just said as normal external conversation is said, because the emotion is internal; the feeling is too poetic by nature for that. So I have to write a poem about it, because is means something more to me than just prose. The river runs deeper… Although, prose, the way we speak everyday, can be beautiful, a certain light must shine upon it, or the meaning leaves the words, and the feeling is dead. So then, because poetry is life, and life is all that exists, or existed-life is the dead and the living-poetry is also. Poetry channels the soul and thoughts and the mind and the heart; prose does not allow me to fly as freely.
And so, it seems as though I write because I feel I need to keep feeling alive, or I myself may wither away.