Pour Forth The Magic
Some days, I know nothing more than the fact that I want to write but there wouldn’t be a topic, a story or a subject I can mentally conjure to write about.
There is no inspiration, no spur, other than my own strange passion to fill up empty pages with ink. Empty pages and blank papers, they call to me, asking for my magic. I hasten to answer this call but there are times when I feel no magic in me, times when emptiness abounds in the depth of my soul and inspiration eludes me like the sun does the night sky.
I am left to the vices of my passion as it consumes me, I search desperately for salvation – anything at all that start a conversation between my pen and the paper.
I search the skies for this salvaging inspiration, I find it not. I search for it in books, I find it not. Every second that ticks by, I loose a bit of myself to a passion that churns and crashes like the sea in a tempest.
The passion that comes from the knowledge that writing is my higher calling. It is my saving grace, my sanity, my essence.
This reality births my passion. Daily, I must atone for my transgressive existence this way. I must write my way into redemption and seek to study even more this sacred art of creation whilst treading on the path of self-discovery.
After searching for the elusive inspiration in skies and books written by great minds, I realize that the magic truly dwells in me whether I “feel” it or not. My emptiness is a different world of inspiration itself. ‘Emptiness' is magic as well as ‘Fill' is. I will give in completely to the possessiveness of my passion and explore it, I will pour out my emptiness, my cluelessness and seemingly magic-less self with no hesitation, whenever my passion calls. I will spill ink, creating binding spells to enchant the mind and to entrance the soul on paper.
Thank you for reading😊
