Why Do You Write

Why do you write? Why do you write? they ask, as if there is reason for the madness of existence and the need to make sense of a senseless world. Why do you write? a question not unlike why do you work? which has simple answer: to live, and love, and linger over some sensual pleasure. Why do you write? and I look within to see why and discover that is why; to look within to see why, to see why I am. And when I write, I bring my inner world into the spotlight of objective thought, far from the emotion of my within, from my emotions within. And when I write, I bring you into my view, to gaze upon with an inner eye; divorced from the ache of longing, free of sadness and doubt. And when I write, I put life into its proper perspective so it puzzles no more, and I become free: free of you, free of insistent memory. I write from inside, where form and metre are strangers in a strange land and are stilled, without voice, impotent to shape the flowing stream of thought. I write from inside, words bubbling forth as water from a spring; then spreading in a meandering flow to fill the waiting void, bringing meaning into the light. I write from inside, where thought and emotion entangle, and need expression to disentangle, to be given form in words that resonate through my soul.