We should write because thought is slippery—like ink on water, like footprints in the tide. It disappears if we don’t press it into something solid. Memory is a poor keeper of ideas; it frays, it edits, it lies. And we should show our work because what good is a map if no one sees it?
So heavy yet so lightSo dark yet so brightSo stark and so tightYet so right, But Not quite.
We should write because thought is slippery—like ink on water, like footprints in the tide. It disappears if we don’t press it into something solid. Memory is a poor keeper of ideas; it frays, it edits, it lies. And we should show our work because what good is a map if no one sees it?
So heavy yet so lightSo dark yet so brightSo stark and so tightYet so right, But Not quite.
