Thursday, September 23, 2004

A writer's prayer

Dignify my prose O' Lord, for I have written. I have plucked the words out of common vocabulary to defend meaning, even though my work is as original as Adams.
Dignify my prose O'Lord, for I have written. I have discovered the innocous power of pro-creation, and exercised my right to its use.
Dignify my prose O'Lord, for I have written. Out of anger, resentment, revenge, guilt, and joy. I have written as therapy, and I have written as rant. For pleasure, pain, acceptance and rejection. But most of all to share, to wonder, to touch, and to be touched.
Dignify my prose O'Lord, for I have written. Contributing some that I know, every inch of reason and every mile of feeling, nights of dread, and days of hope. And also, contributing some that I know not of; virtuous saviours, self-negating messiahs, unforetold destiny, unquestioned faith, and miracles.
Dignify my prose O'Lord, for I have written. Written down the questions that I along with others ponder. About life, love, justice and beauty. About conflict, fight, irony, and resignation.
Dignify my prose O'Lord, for I have written. For in writing, I have acknowledged my intelligence, to portray, to tell, to fantasize, to imagine. And in consequence I have rejected the style and story of others, preferring my own. Degrading the greats of my time just so I could join them. To say of the world, as I see it. Another partial view, indeed.
Dignify my prose O'Lord, for I have written. Clawing away at all that I reason as bad, and contributing to all that I feel as good. My judgements are all black and white in Your grey universe.
Dignify my prose O'Lord, for I have written. And in writing, I have chosen the testimonies of my heart, instead of the logic of the mind; mine and others'.