I rise, as every day, at nearly dawn... The monitor trembles at the keys' soft sound... I write my verses. Some flow without pain... Others leave me drenched in sweat a hundred times.
Eighteen degrees below outside the pane. January snowdrifts stretch across the land. The first ray of the sun tears through my home, Though I have been awake a full hour now.
And inspiration fills my very soul. With each new line, the sunlight burns more bright. And holding my breath, barely breathing still, I pray this gift will never leave me hence.
The Creator of the worlds speaks unto me, Gives freedom to my thoughts and verses both. Then let the noise of day come flooding in, But this time—I surrender unto God...
