The Writer

The Writer

I have no words to say and no thoughts to think.  I am a mute with no mind at all.  I stare at my empty manuscript and long for inspiring words that enrich my soul and exalt my spirit.  Like the empty pages, my empty mind is as silent as the still water that sits in the meadow with no place to run to, imprisoned by the leveling of the land.
Then one night as the gems of the skies were placed in their eternal seats in full view with their twinkling eyes looking over the slumbering villages, God visited me at my bedside and looked down at me with his compassionate eyes.  He fed me words that a sumptuous feast could not have satisfied me more.  They were the words of heaven, full of wisdom; that silent knowledge with its muted speech
but transcendent thoughts.  I couldn’t hear them, but my empty soul felt their presence as they poured into it.
My mind now was overflowing with every word that the ether could embrace; enough words to fill an endless book.  It was up to me to choose which ones that suited my taste, like picking the prime fruits from a finely cultivated orchard.
I am now a writer with no mind alone by myself, but bursting with words that God told me to fill my manuscript with.  They cling to my soul like a fawn does to its mother.  Without them, I am nothing.
I am now a rich man with no gold to sift through my fingers, but golden words to store in my treasure chest.  Thanks be to God.

From my book entitled, "In Reverence to Life."

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