The Role of a Writeris not to say what we can all say, but what we are unable to say.” ~Anais Nin But have all the noble poems been written by classical masters and the gifted poets of today? Are there meaningful works still left to pen, not merely big words from our swollen egos spilling their contents at the whim of a moment, nor with the simplistic meanderings of joy, or grief or love? To answer my own question, I say write on, dear poets. Allow not your words to decay unwritten in the brilliant minds of today where they’ll lie barren and unread only to wither and crack and parch as clay in the desert. I do believe there are jewels left to be written. But if we must write, it should be for the future, for the common man who will gain most from these words he cannot write. We have an obligation to write in a way that he may glean what he can from writings of poetic merit, not stumble through obscure words which are, to him, as bird droppings on a splintered windowsill left to die in obscurity gathering nothing but dust. If we must write, let us write for those who are unable, so the future might find our words alive and fertile, their tilled soil begun as thoughts and feelings first seeded in keen minds, then sown into black and white, rich and green and lush, to live on in future hearts and minds even as we crumble, ashes to ashes, and blow away, dust to dust. May we always write not to say what we can all say, but what we are unable to say -- not for the now, but for forever. |
