I write to inspire – myself and others.
Sometimes my spirit demands attention. I sit and wait for the lessons of my soul.
Occasionally I write to release the stress of the day, as a meditation; a way to reconnect with spirit.
I write in my journal nearly daily, to not forget, in case I fail in loss of memory.
Other times I write for the joy of it. To play with the child within. To relish my inner fantasies of silly names and mysterious places, the world of lost dreams.
At times I write spontaneously, without thinking, to see what hides behind my comfort zone.
I write to simply tell a story; to share an idea; to see how my mind can work – or what is left of my mind after a day of legalese.
I write for my mother, who died too young to express her thoughts.
I write for my father, who worked too hard to find time to express himself.
I write for my brother, whose inner self I do not know.
I source poems for my lover and friends,
to share my experience of them,
to see their smiles,
to see their hearts open,
to know they are loved.
So… I guess I write for love,
The love of laughter,
The love of giving,
The love of sharing