Owing To The Fact He

The Writer Must Hew The Phantom Rock.

For In A Swift Radiance Of Illumination He Saw A Glimpse Of Human Struggle And Valor. Of The Endless Fluid Passage Of The Humanity Through Endless Time. And Of Those Who Labor And Of Those Who - One Word- Love. His Soul Expanded. But For A Moment Only. For In Him, He Felt A Warning, A Shaft Of Terror.

I'm Not Explaining This Right. What Happened Was This. There Were These Beautiful Feelings And Loose Little Pleasures Inside Me. And This Woman Was Something Like An Assembly Line For My Soul. I Run These Little Pieces Of Myself Through Her And I Come Out Complete. Now Do You Follow Me?

But No Value Has Been Put On Human Life; It Is Given To Us Free And Taken Without Being Paid For. What Is It Worth? If You Look Around, At Times The Value May Seem To Be Little Or Nothing At All. Often After You Have Sweated And Tried And Things Are Not Better For You, There Comes A Feeling Deep Down In The Soul That You Are Not Worth Much.

Love Is The Main Generator Of All Good Writing... Love, Passion, Compassion, Are All Welded Together.