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this too shall pass
somebody said writing's a painful process. truly it is. your head is constantly hammered by thoughts rushing from all directions. you try to streamline. organize. release a smooth flow . one that will want you to touch it, grasp it or simply wallow in it. but alas, when you sit at the keys you hate what comes out. not even an iota close to what you visualised. exasperated, you walk out. no more of it. the end.
end to writing? yes. but could there ever be an end to writhing thoughts that keep creeping at the back of your mind or sudden, lightening flashes that bolt you out of the blue? you try again. you fail.
that my friends has been my story.
but times pass, phases pass, eras pass and so the much cliched, this too shall pass.
today's a small attempt. tomorrow maybe a bigger one.