Write As Rea

The happy intersection between what I want to write and what people want to read.

I write.

You read.

Or maybe you don’t.

So I suffer for my art

Painting with words

As others do in brush strokes.

Using a medium common to all

Seeking an elusive mastery

No perfect equations here despite the many manuals.

That which quickens the mind and touches the heart

Makes friends only when it chooses.

With whom it chooses.

And I become a beggar

Left lonely and abstract

Yearning for that fickle companionship

Finding rationality wrapped in whimsy

Filling up the great white blankness with words

Spilling out like colors.

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