It's time to write again. This place is slowly infusing me with the will to put pen to paper. Out here, surrounded by all this dark energy and machinations of war and death, I have the urge to bring light.
I've been reading, which is another reason to start up again. It puts me on top of my game, and there's no reason to put my creative flow to waste, to die out here so feebly in the desert. This place will not be the death of me, but a place of baptism.
Now, I do not expect to wite ballads or epics or short stories or limmericks. I do not expect anything at all. I just know that I will put pen to paper and see what happens. Whatever comes forth will be unfiltered, unchoked.
Some may be too personal to post here. Some may be utter nonsense. Some may be deep in a matter unfathomable. But as I look out at all these boys, marching to the drums of war, I see not fine tuned killing machines, but different walks of life.
There are so many stories, here in this desert, waiting to be captured. As I lay on my cot, counting the minutes, I can feel the harsh winds whispering them in my ears. It's time I listened.
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