it's a selfish act.
I admit.
the pleasure is mostly all mine,
sitting here
at this keyboard.
some days I can't wait to get to it.
to see what arrives,
what dreams, what memories
what failures
get written about.
it's an island, an oasis.
a fortress of solitude.
no one can get it when I've shut that door
and begin.
I have no clue when I sit down
what might come out. it's a mystery.
it's better that way.
in fact life is better that way,
not knowing
is a blessing.
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