THE WELL RAN DRY

Somewhere, I know not when or where, the words ran out.
What was once an effortless nightly practice disappeared.

I would write and write and write.
Putting thoughts in order with pen and paper.

Making sense of what it meant to be a creative
in search of glorifying an Almighty God.

Sharing of this life with those who sought to share in it.
To know that someone else in this world wrestles what it means to live.

For two years, I’ve not said much.
At least, not in this manner.

I want to change that.
I long to share what I’ve learned.

What I’m learning.
What I experience.

I know not how.
I hardly know when.

Still, I want to write transparently.
To share the depths of who I am with those who walk this journey alongside me.

That’s why I’ve added Field Notes to my website.
Where I may write about anything and everything that I wrestle with.

To be known.
To share the highs and lows.

Perhaps searching for that well again.
From which I may teach, inspire, and encourage others.

As people. As creatives.
What it means to be human again.