Question the Pen

Today I question
I question today
when do writers get the courage to keep on writing?
How can putting pen to page be more important or as important as earthquakes and snowstorms? The end of the world or the mortgage company needing something else?

How does this make a difference?
Maybe I'll never know.
So I'll just keep writing.

At least I'll leave proof that I was here
that I lived and thought and dreamt and hoped and cried
when I was alone I was really alive
as the wind blew my thoughts took shape
in my non-sleeping moments I was really awake

Maybe I can dream louder than my pain
while I sing my song about living again
living in the midst of things that don't work
I keep on dreaming in spite of the hurt
I keep on dreaming in front on the pain
engaged in a battle that cannot limit my range

Anyway, I will continue to trust in the purpose that alludes me at times
at snow desolate times when no shelter can be found