years of waiting nothing came.
stand and stare out at an endless, silent sea. Wondering. Waiting. Feeling the
a reasonable man but it’s about time to forget the rhyme and the reason and to
time for something else.
dream will always be beautiful but it takes more than dreams to make the day go
perhaps and the maybes seem too full of mishaps and could-be’s to make the
nights ever feel right.
are just another excuse to stand still in life and not keep going.
time to open your eyes.
another world out there full of flatlining ease. Full of contented fools. Full
of foolish, foolhearty full foes. A world full when you’re standing full of
ideas and feeling empty.
pocketful of stories but nowhere to bring them to.
only a brave soul could acquire.
only a dreaming fool could publish.
only someone swimming against the stream could plunge in entirely and strive.
time to get out of the raging waters. Time to stand on the shore. Time to wade
around on the sand and calm down.
to see the sunset without wondering about tomorrow.
little beautiful blessings surrounding you and you’re so damn worried about
taking care of them.
don’t need a pat on the back. You need a legion of troops. You need the voices
of a few whipping up the frenzy of the many.
is not fair but it’s certainly been fair to you. You’re a fortunate fool. But
the time is up and it’s time to get wise.
time to start over again somewhere.
old but not too old.
Hopefully not too
old to start again and build anew.
stories and the point-of-views and the characters and the souls searching can
wait. They can wait just like you’ve been waiting.
world won’t worry about it. They won’t wonder a bit.
tomorrow you’ll fall into some raging tornado. But today you’re smart enough to
know you need a change.
for the face looking in the mirror but for the future you hope is much more
Labels: Author Angst, dreams, on writing, the future, the writing life