Quiet. Silent. Why should I be?

I was born demanding attention.

I came into this life screaming.

 

I write because eloquence just passed me by.

Out of my mouth spews forth aberrations.

But when I put black ink to white sheets

I find myself composing revelations.

 

Words scrawled on paper. These are my voice.

In a world of guns and bombs

I wield diction as my weapon of choice.

 

O God, my power eats me up!

While others strut across TV screens

I long to bellow out my thoughts.

I yearn to sing aloud my dreams......So I write.

 

Not for fame. Not for fortune. Neither do I seek.

I was born to bare witness

and reveal what God has given me.

 

I write for the lost and lonely child

fumbling and stumbling in the dark.

My hope is this: that my words are salve

to a bleeding and broken heart.

 

Awake and Alive. Am I not thus?

Is this life not but a moment?

Am I not only dust?

 

O I write because Time is a faithless woman,

stealing years from one and all.

To die and have my words die with me

would be the bitterest gall.

 

Quiet. Silent. I cannot be.

I was born to scream my song

until all of creation shouts with me.

 

I write for my life, for my Father and Maker,

for the child, for hopeles hearts, and all the naysayers.

 

To be heard, to spread the word, to tell my story is why I write,

so when I die, I'll know that I did something worthy with my life.