the undead

seems i've been dealt another tweny four hours (more or less), to make something of myself. or to bless the Lord of Heaven. i'll take the latter. the former doesn't seem to be working out so well.

i had a talk with someone who matters a great deal, and he said,

give yourself time to become.

yes. that's right where i'm at. a junction between moving forward and growth, or the other (not quite sure what the other option is, stagnation i guess, squelching what is trying to burst forth). it must be my season when the blooms are pushing forth and won't be held in. there is no way to stop the rose from blooming, save pruning, but that will only make it bloom more. so, unless it dies, it will do what it was created to do.

i've thought often about my untimely demise. less these days, but probably still quite a bit. i wonder about this trail of words i'm leaving. if they will add up to something. or if they will be caught upon the wind and blow away.

they add up to something for me right now, because they are my truth. here, on the page (or screen), i am free to speak my mind. confess my fears. rejoice in my triumphs. here, i am free to become.

i don't understand how to translate this that i do into something which can be packaged for sale. i've come to understand it is the nature of the beast that writers consider this, but i keep trying to force it from my mind. keep trying to lay it to rest, but like dawn of the dead, it rises up and comes after me.

i'm not afraid of it, but i just wish it would stay down. but i guess it won't. it has risen again and is stinking and following me.

publish, publish

it says.

no.

i keep ducking in and out of doors.

leave me alone.

i guess this is how c.s. lewis felt when he was trying to hide from God. a most unwilling convert, is what i believe he called himself. as am i.

don't get me wrong, who doesn't want to be published. it is all the stuff that goes with it. it truly overwhelms me. i grow weary just thinking about it.

so i'll start digging a hole again, and cram this follower in. say a few words and get on with my business. but he'll rise. again he'll rise.

publish. publish.

damn fool, just die all ready. or maybe i should just publish and get it over with.
would it were that simple.