Yet another tribute to all of you who write. You are the true Rock Stars of the Universe.
~
Fiddling on the Roof, as if
Throwing our common soul out
To downpour over the
Houses and streets of Anatevka, now

Abandoned. Seized by
The Tsar.
History.
Such is the soul that writes.

Tells. Thinks. Whispers of.
Records and absorbs.
Carves from Creation.
Dispenses.

Such is the soul that writes; waits
Another hour in bed in the
Morning, knowing
The Early Worm

Gets the beak first.
The Soul that writes is
The quill of the gods; angel
Feathered, timeless and part of

Everything. Say to yourselves
I will write until the only ink
I have is the black in my eye.
I'll learn to write blind from there.*

You would.

You wrote all that has
Ever been
Written.