This
world is wicked and wearisome. The time and the toil take their little ticks
off you. Bit by bit they can fade away a shadow into something paper thin.

            But
I keep going.

            Fighting
and fearless but really just completely foolhearty, I keep going.

            I
wade the deep waters as if I’m an Olympic swimmer.

            I
give punches like I’m some kind of professional fighter.

            But
this is the only fight I know in a profession I love.

            I
don’t understand the technology anymore. I don’t know whose side to stand on in publishing battles. I see the sides of traditional verses Indie and
understand the whole eBook verses actual book thing.

            Yet
all I know are the stories I want to tell.

            Imagined
and real.

            Unbelievable
and unseen.

            I
want to sew and stitch till I somehow get them right. Right in the only way I
know how to get right. The weary, worrisome right.

            I
want to battle this world and this time and tell some kind of truly original
story.

            30
plus but I haven’t forgotten. I haven’t given up. I haven’t stopped seeing.

            I
still imagine that. Yes I do.

            I
still believe that. Yes I do.

            I
still am the only champion in this arena. And I yell out day after day to
myself.

            And
day after day I ask the world “Are you not entertained?”

            But
the world gives me a big, fat shrug. So I keep on.

            Hoping
to find it.

            Hoping
to tell it.

            Hoping
to figure it out.

            So
many ways to tell a story. So many ways to reach people. So many opportunities.
So many of so many things.

            So
I have to simply keep going.

            Few
really know and fewer even care. But that’s okay.

            I
want to hear that sweet song singing to me at night. I want to try as hard as I
can before the lights go out.

            I’m
half blind and half confused and half delirious. But I’m trying my hardest.

            And
I’m trying a little harder than that.

            We
live in an indifferent, individualistic time. Everybody knows everything.

            Yet
I’m still searching the crowd to find and to figure it out.

            So
I’m going to love and keep listening.

            And
I’m going to keep going.

            That’s
all I can stay.

            Until
tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next century.

            Until
the lights go out.