The empty page stares back at me
I tighten my hold on the words
that threaten to escape
For a trickle let out
Would burst the flood gate
The flames uncontrolled
Licking any which way
Causing dimay to kith and kin
A risk I can not take
Stuffing them down
I pick up my pencil
And write what is not as good as it could be
If only the stories could be free
I love the sentiment in this and agree wholeheartedly. I struggle with every single post or writing– to be honest. It always feels too vulnerable. I love the image of our words kindling a fire that destroys everything. Fires are good though. They revive the forest, as I’m sure you know! 🙂
I love your perspective of fires being good – and necessary. Maybe vulnerability revives the forest?