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Pen to Paper

When my heart sings, I write it down. 
When pain brings me to tears, 
when my soul cries out for release, 
I write my hopes and fears. 

Maybe its bad, maybe its profound; 
it doesn't matter to me. 
It matters just to write it here;
to make what isn't, be. 

Is it more true on this white page 
to cry, to laugh, to feel; 
or is it just the way I know 
that what I am is real. 

The pen my fingers used to hold, 
the keyboard I peck on now;
a notebook, now a glowing screen,
they are my heart somehow. 

How lucky God gave me my words. 
How true they seem to me. 
Just shadows of my soul's great thoughts. 
A child's first steps, so free. 

Not perfect, no, these keys don't sing. 
They'll never get it right. 
But what I feel beneath my hand 
is joy because I write

Copyright © Ron VanHooser

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Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry