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Posted to Stories

Silent today is my inner self. The poetry seems quiet, the stories invisible. Invisible words for an invisible page.
Doubts and writers block. Doubts about whether I really have what it takes to be a writer. Block because my ego rears its ugly head and stains the pages that I write. And I can't bear to see such a bitter reflection of myself.
So I stare at black opaque tiled floor. Wonder if maybe nows the time for me to disapear. Keep my writing secret. Keep my ideas under my hat.
That old devil ego, such an elusive quality of mind disturbs me. You start to realise maybe your kidding yourself. And You question your motives about why it is you write, and find the answers hard.
Ego that deceptive voice within, always clamouring for attention, in as many different ways as it can.
So I feel it is time to disapear for a while, like in that taichi move 'snake creeps down.' Go deep down into the depths of the unconscious mind and explore writing with ego-less child-like abandon.

I feel the presence of dead poets and writers around me. Their spirit inspiring me to keep on, but out of respect for them I say I must stop for a while.
" Don't stop writing," they say. I promise them I won't, but want it to be pure.
"It will grow," they say, " Keep writing, have no thought for money or for fame."
"I will try..." I say
"Write honestly from your heart. From the sheer love of forming words. Be an apprentice and learn your trade. Learn how to become a carpenter of words. Listen and experiment and explore this art, walk it like a sacred path. As we did, and you will find it is an alchemy of the soul that helps to set you free. You will begin to feel life around you in deeper more meaningful ways than you have before. The word mindfull will take a new place in your heart and you will grow in spirit and truth. "
I nod in sad knowing mind. "I hear you..."
" Help carry on our torch, be our hands that we no longer have. Carry the torch. That great literary torch that should never die. With phoenix eyes, help Carry the torch. All of you writers together encourage and help each other. Lift that torch high to new regions as yet unexplored, all you writers together as one voice and one pen. A mighty sword of truth. Do this and we of the written word will be with you. And we will guide you with our prose and poetic vision. We will guide you and help you."

These great writers, who are the lovers of literature. Mystics who dared to take language places no-one else did. Who dared to experiment, these scientists of the page, who fearlessly wrote what they saw. Who because they dared left behind them great works of art that inspire the deepest recesses of humankind and still continue to do so from the grave.

And so the sacred flame has been passed down to us.
grateful am I to these my mentors of the written word. And with a sense of humility I vow to help my fellow brothers and sisters lift this poetic torch.