Writers In Life by David Enochs

In the faucet a water drop trembles and falls again and again. In the cloud a water drop gathers itself trembles and falls again and again. Water is one at its source. The drop is one drop unfolding, falling, and blending into a stream or a puddle again and again.

Like the droplet, what about each one of us? Are we from one humanity? Are we aspects from one Life? One World? One Imagination? One Universe?

Are we like sparks from some blacksmiths anvil falling like stars into a well crafted element or masterpiece from a single flame with only one single intention? The cloud is not separate from this world, this life, this thought.

Each of us trembles, lets go and falls into space not knowing about the stream, or the single intention with every keystroke. Yet we let go again and again every time we put our thoughts to paper or document.

It is said the skydiver finds joy in falling from the plane. Do we find joy as well, like a drop of water , or the spark of a hidden muse as we fall again and again in our attempts to transcribe our imagination to the average unknown critic.

I say not to this simple thought, each author is special in their attempt to write. Yet only a fraction are ever recognized for what they do, but millions of us write because we enjoy what we do not because we are after financial gain. We do this over and over again because we like to tell the unknown story of that drop of water.