Because there’s so much to say.
Because there is more complexity in life
Than ink in my pen.
Because these words
Will outlive me.
Because how else can I unpack
The heavy rucksack of overthinking?
Because each morning has fresh beauty
And each night has familiar heartache
And there is no better avenue
Than the pen to make it
Why write daily?
Because I do not stutter when I write.
Left on the page
Because here I can build cathedrals
In the pursuit of truth
And find healing balm
For stubborn wounds.
The pen, you see,
Does as much for the writer
As it does for the reader.
Why write every day?
Because there is no clearer path
From the deepest recess of my mind
To the furthest corners of earth.