Why do I write?

It is past midnight and I question if it's worth my time to stay awake with ideas written on pages that have long been crumpled,

with rhymes written on planes that have long left for the skies,

with feelings written on boats that have long set sail.

Ideas with no legs are kicking me on my shin as I question the institution of my actions, why do I even write?

I believe, it is important to ask questions to get the right answers.

I believe, it is important to drink water whenever you are thirsty.

I believe, when the world doesn't know for sure, the answer lies within,

So, I take a deep breath bringing together the nib of my pen and the paper, and ask myself again... Why do I even write?

Do I like to remember the man that I was which eventually reminds me of the man that I should be? So, do I like to remember, or do I like to be remembered to not be forgotten to always be immortal in the memories of others for people to be able to say; I once knew this man who lived and walked around here; who had these ideologies and beliefs and I remember him fondly is that what I want to have a legacy to live even after I die?

Do I write to be remembered or do I write for others?

Am I a sage and is this all a sacrifice?

Being able to write a poem that can find its way inside a bottle of wine; only to be opened by a needy and for a lone traveler to give them hope to carry on with their journey.

So, do I write for others then or do I like to add meaning to my life to be able to

prove that I was more than what my actions depicted to be able to justify the sameness of my days.

Do I write to title and glorify my struggle? Do I write to be able to convince others that

my life had a purpose?

You know sometimes, I doubt if my ink will ever make your heart sink if my

papers will one day fly up into vapors.

I wonder if I'm being too wasteful

I wonder if there'll ever be a document

I wonder if art will ever be more important than the constitution or any religious scripture. Y

You know sometimes I doubt if you are really listening to me?

It is past midnight and I question if it's worth my time to stay awake?

I believe when the world doesn't know for sure the answer lies within.

So, I take a deep breath and tell myself that I write because I have a pen and a paper that I

write because I can!