Poem: For the Love of Writing

In quiet rooms where silence grows,
A seed of thought begins to pose—
It stirs, it shifts, then takes to flight,
A whispered thread in morning light.

The pen, a wand, the page, a spell,
Where truth and wonder softly dwell.
Each word a step, each line a door,
To worlds uncharted, evermore.

No crowd applauds, no chorus sings,
Yet still the heart with passion rings.
A phrase, a pause, a rhythm’s grace—
The soul finds form, the mind its place.

For not in fame, nor praise, nor prize,
But in the hush where dreams arise,
The writer’s joy is gently spun—
To chase the light, and not outrun.

So let the ink run deep and wide,
Through every fear you’ve set aside.
For in this craft, both fierce and free,
You write yourself—eternally.

Thank-you for reading.

Remember there are many paths back to God.

Follow your own path,

Brenda Marie