Is there anything new under the sun? I can write a million words and not one of them unique. So, dear child, why on Earth do I still do it?
There's perpetual fire in my veins, an itch under my skin. My fingers long to type words that shape into images, personalities, relationships, stories, souls yearning, tales of both adventure and every day mundane grind turned into poetry about the human heart. I want to feel the worlds tumbling out, shining like brilliant stars, pointing the way to the heavens in the dark of this world.
In short, I can't stop or I'll die.
So, in answer, there is absolutely nothing new under the sun. Absolutely nothing more I can say that hasn't already been said and nothing more I can do that hasn't already been done. Not really.
However -
this yearning in my bones will not stop until this ancient world is peeled layer by layer again and again for every new born child, for every newly born soul. I must redirect the eyes to the heavens, and I can't stop until everyone is staring up.
Even then, I'll keep writing.
