Writing Is a Wonder-Filled Game

Without the relentless grind of living each glorious and difficult day those who take up the writing life wouldn't have much to say. It's the flowers in the garden and the lover's tender touch and the way the winter snow falls we writers love so much. We kiss the grass we walk on and the clouds that float on by as life keeps right on giving to the poet's inner eye. The pain of having loved and lost a part of one's own being when someone dear has disappeared we writers keep write on singing. When life has kicked us down and out in the mud and blood-filled ground and others fade into deep dark shade we seek what's more profound... A worthy rhyme and reason to lift us higher still Our lives provide the water and seeds we need to be fulfilled. As we look to the past for things that last and those who shaped our lives while secretly writing our epithets Long before our time to fly. It is holiness and sinfulness, where sinners and saints abound, Dreams at night, eagles in flight And Beethoven's orchestral sounds. The thoughts in our heads, the food we are fed winners, losers, fortune and fame, it's all a big bust and a blast if we trust, writing is a wonder-filled game. At the end of the day all one can say is life's no roll of the dice, But a Mighty grand gift that's made to lift Us writers from darkness to light.