The Words I Have Written, What Do They Mean?

I write from the heart,
I write of things experienced in life in the hope that those who shall read them will feel what I feel and hopefully see.

Yet I feel my words are like unto dead bugs which hit and splatter the windshields of our life.

Their guts… my heart…the joy and tears I shall for others ever cry.

Sometimes the darkness;
The quiet of an eternal night does not seem so very bad.
Oh come now the day when my words which have seemingly no meaning or ability to reach another heart lived so sad.

Therefore why do I even bother to write?
For my words reflect on ponds and rivers in disdain.
They lie in repose; dead and void of light.

Cast now perhaps this pen into the blackness of the dark and forbidding sea.
To write or not to write,
Shall I continue…
You tell me?

Thus now I stand at the precipice.
I see the end,
I see both the bad and the good and wonder if what I have to say will tear down or in an unknown heart build an edifice?

After 800,000 words over the years I did speak.
I wonder…
Is it time to keep expressing,
Or shall in silence this heart, these words I erase forever
And in my own darkness weep?

Oh what have they meant?
Are they just empty passages spent?
I don’t know…
Is it time to stay, or is it time to go?

J. Allen Wilson © 6/12/2013