There is nothing you can do now that will embarrass you. No one will laugh, no one will tease or criticize. This is simply a time to let your mind wander where it pleases, heedless of the inhibitions that you have instilled to guard yourself against those reactions. We are artists. Writers, yes, but artists in the way we weave the language into the thoughts and dreams of our audience. To deny yourself a chance to vent this inspiration—to ignore its screams for release—would be to deny yourself a chance to paint a picture of who you are. They say a picture paints a thousand words... but a few words can create a stunningly beautiful picture. Disregard the world... it is not here to watch you. You are alone, looking into a mirror that reflects your mind. Simply write what you see there… Silent whispers of the heart, threading gently through my mind, Gliding smoothly like the darkness over rain-drenched grass; Yet the dampened breeze holds echoes of a melancholy past— Sinister things that no soul should ever feel But still clings to, Refusing to forever turn away from that nameless state of being; I can taste the light that tries to save me, Wanting to believe its reassurance that all is not lost; Yet its silken hand does not hide what has been, nor can it Deny what may be; I crave the ethereal sweetness— Desire it like nothing else; Yet like Tantalus reborn, I cannot experience Those forbidden pleasures once granted willingly... And so I stumble on, tormented, Thrilled—yet far away from what we used to call our own; My silhouette in the deathly pale moonlight Seems to dance on a shadow where a grave will soon lay; What I may strive for makes no difference, for the waters continue to flow around me, Holding me fast; Still I stand on the ocean's edge, Watching for you in stormy dreams, waiting to see your divine countenance Rising out of the waves—such a countenance as Venus herself Could only lust after; Yet there is nothing; Blackness; No light shines on the horizon, and no stars are to be seen; The waves laugh at my mortality, The gulls cry out their condolences as a part of me dies each moment; I stare at the colorless sunrise, numbed by mere existence Without meaning— Without feeling; I curse each forsaken moment, shielding jaded eyes against its rays As the orb follows its endless walk, diligent in its apathy; I simply watch… Alone… I turn away, and blackness grasps my shoulders once again; In the final moments before twilight, I realize the sad truth— Without you, I don't have myself.