An Oath to the Writer
To the mind that works busily a day
To form the stories, you long to say
To the pen and to the paper
Who forge and create,
Constitute and generate
Words from the hand that paints.
To the inspirations, the memories carved.
To those who critiqued and those who exalted,
To those who wondered, pondered and gratefully received.
To the various mental states that allowed for such ideas to emerge,
And to the places where these tales came to life.
To those characters created, who alive in heart
Make the writings on a page almost seem absolute.
To the audiences who perceive novels as second to breathing
And breathe these anecdotes as if nothing else exists.
To the sharers, carers, lovers and the faultfinders,
Gratitude comes in your admiration and your dislike.
And an Oath to the writer, with whom I share this title
Indebted to you for following your dreams,
While neglecting the ones who told you could not
And in mind of the ones who saw your capability.
And an Oath to the Author, for without heart and desire
Our words would never have made it onto the lines of a book
And our stories never further from the page.