A Writer's Prayer
how shall I be read
you gave me this gift
few read verse
this gift feeling a curse
I write anyhow.
'tis currish it seems to sell my gift
for things that people buy,
I can't write about that anyhow
only you know why,
I don't understand the way they do
those who are heard far and wide,
I keep reading their explanations
I go to try
Sometimes it seems
my words go astray
i know not where they go
or what about me they say
if it matters to continue at all
this I say with a sigh
it isn't that I am stupid, I think,
I have no real cause to shed tears
whether 'tis deep seated pride
or honor that keeps me back,
My words a mountain now,
a trek that daunts me ere i try,
I will content myself
with where I write and how,
maybe in time.
I may some day write something sublime
then the things I spread
will be heard anyhow.
my qualms calmed
rewarded by thy hand for what I do.
until then I thank thee
that I have the pen
to work out these demons
in the end
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