Wind, Fill the Sails.

So then, here I am a writer.

Many words to put to paper.

A dime a dozen for all it’s worth.

But words are only letters.

So then, here I am a writer.

A sword, a rose, or a cello for the wanderer.

I desire to give flame to fire

and movement to the still feet.

But what does it matter?

My words will fade with the paper.

My hope is only in this fact,

That once begun my story will live on after.

For what are letters but squiggles on paper?

It is life that shapes the story and the story my life.

So take the quintessential challenge…

For me a wayfaring stranger.

Find the fragrance of my flower.

Be gentle to the bud.

Don’t blame me the writer if you find it hard read.

It takes work to squiggle.

Gargantuan the ocean tide to be limited to paper what moved my pen to write.

Be confident that I’ll keep my post,

If you the reader open ears and eyes

To see the world I see

And be better after.

The effort here given is not for me

But to move thee farther.

So then, here I am a warrior.

Truth be told to fight the foe.

Yes my foibles you will see.

But look beyond me.

For man is silly who doesn’t hear,

The senseless folly of sage or jester.

So then, here I am the writer.

It takes a little courage

And a whole lot of faith

Be kind to what I aim to do…

Move mountains and fill streams.

But it’s not the little letters you see


Letters are nothing and so are words


Wind fill the sails.

Wind fill my sails


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