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Ink blood

I am feeling brave this morning – brave enough to write – to spill my ink blood on the physical and digital pages that lie before me waiting to soak it up, to be filled with meaning. That very notion, that my words may have such power, causes me to hesitate. Who am I to think I wield words and ideas with such skill? And yet, they are in me, brewing, stewing, ready to overflow the confines of mind and body, seeking their own existence, begging to take on a life of their own apart from me. How can I refuse such an earnest request? And so, I begin anew today to release them to the world.

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