When The Right Write Is Writ

Ranble I will with words far and near,

setting the tone, page by page,

stopping long enough

to enjoy a glass of beer.

Late into the night,

phalanges do fly,

clacking away at letters,

getting each word right.

Add-delete-add-add-add ...

delete-delete-delete,

a never-ending process,

until finished, it looks like a mess.

Hour upon hour,

day after day,

a paragraph here,

a chapter there.

Days, weeks, even months

travel past my thoughts,

until that singular moment rises up,

and the write has been writ.

No one else may know but you,

that giddy feeling that crawls through your being,

knowing you have reached deep down

and pulled from your soul ... pefection as you see it.

800,000 words.

5,000 ideas.

300 people.

They now sit on a shelf awaiting you to read.

I think another beer is in order.