Sometimes,
just sometimes,
you hafta keep going
no matter what.

It doesn’t seem like it will turn out right.
You give it your best effort.
You wish things were easier.

But they’re not.

You wish and hope and work so that
the story in your head
(or the art in your brush
or the lines in your imagination
or the sculpted form in your mind
or the photo in your camera’s eye
or the musical notes in your head
or the dance in your dreams)
clearly shows up within
the page, the canvas, the aperture, the staff, the air,
the space which we call life.

Writer, write.
write. write. write.
(“But is it wrong?”)

Every artist, every creator
has moments of wondering.

Will this work?
Is this worth my effort?
Will people like it?
Will people get it?
Will people want it?

Sometimes,
just sometimes,
you hafta keep going
no matter what.

Run. Walk. Crawl, if you must.

Artistic endeavors
are worthy of time within the soul.

To create is divine,
a touch of heaven…
a touch for the receiver and
(in the process)
a touch for you.

* Thup