When doubt had shrouded the midnight oil
Fear had slept with you at night
Words had spelled desires on whiteness
With no end in sight, no reward

Only a beating heart, images no one else could see
Only an idea, a trembling hope
Something that didn’t exist
Kept you up all night

No bold promises, no guarantee of daylight
Words formed, un-formed undyingly
Yet you had risen each morning, gotten on your feet
And spelled another one of those dreamy but wretched words

And then what was in the mind
Bottled up and tear jerking dream
Spilled over to touch and turn a page
Today was that kind of day

I opened my proof of my first book
Curling into a ball and pressing its sheets
A dream four years in the making
Dropped from my eyelids into my hands.

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