Strange. Writing about writing, yet I can’t help myself.
You are effervescent within me. I sit here with these thoughts writhing within me. Aching for release. Screaming for their chance to surface. I love the way you feel inside me. You are tales of love, despair, grief, anger, hatred, fear, hope, and more. I love the way you dance about the planes of my consciousness. I am afraid to let you out. I fear to break the seal and uncork the raw emotion and experiences that seem so real within me, for fear that they won’t be translated correctly. That their memories and imprints within me will be tainted.
Yet they must be tempered. Raw and unfettered, you have unbridled strength. Ataxic and tumultuous, you buck with power and vivid feeling. Yet you must be formed, coaxed into a more fitting shape. Hammered and heated and cooled, hissing as your fiery essence is kissed by the waters of refinement. Over and over, you must be carefully crafted. Yet you must be able to live. The life you hold within you is precious. Paramount to the artificing you undertake. If this spark of wondrous life is lost or maltreated, all is lost and the craftsmanship is for naught. Your meaning must live on.
This is what I love about you. This is why I love you. Because you are alive. You are not words on a page. You are not the excrement of a blinking cursor on the screen or simply the leaking fluid from the tip of that pen as it scrawls across the page. You are alive.
This is why you are so important to me. I fear to miscommunicate your intentions or your emotion. Your life. Yet if I do not weave you into this tapestry, who then will know of your story? You will be unable to reach out and touch those who may need you. Those who desire you. You cannot temper yourself. Though you threaten to burst with such power and energy and life…you are so dependent upon me. And so it is my responsibility – my duty – to take up this mantle. Artificer I must become and create a vessel for your life, your love. So that you may take flight and go where you must. Though I love the way you dance and flow within me, this is not where you belong. You do not belong to me. You belong to them. You are alive. And I cannot hold you back. I will not keep you strained and confined within me. You will soar, because you are alive.