Dark Soul

The soul of a writer is dark and lonely. Every wound, every hurt and dark imagination dwell there. Like a damn ready to break, our soul waits to be heard; our stories rise and fall like the morning dawn and the evening sunset burning into a crimson tide.

Like a hawk on its high perch we gaze upon the world around us waiting to consume its wonder. Every day we change from predator to prey; hunted to hunter. Victim to no-one, only to ones changing identity.

The ebb and flow of light flirts with darkness in the cave of our writer’s soul. As our darkness bows to the light, the two become mingled as the yin and the yang co-exist and thrive with each other. Neither one of them is good or bad, right or wrong. Together they learn to respect the roles each of them has to the bearer and holder of the unspoken words that deliver moments of reality speckled with glimmers of imagination and freedom from ritual and stale beliefs. For every word delivered has its season to bloom and blossom. For this reason our stories are subjective and beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder.