The River
 
A word...that is magical. To pause on a thought and think, wow! That's astounding. I have to write that down. Why? Because I'm a writer. Not bad, not good. I just am and thats enough. I leave my punctuations for now in my little bag because I have no time for them. The flow demands that I pour. A drizzle will not do. This river by nature wants to rage at the least path of resistance, tearing against the edges of the earth. Build no dam in its path. Let it go where it must. Its drive is to reach its ultimate goal where other rivers flow and at last combined together in a flood of deepness. Thats where we meet and our words will mingle and find their own place to rest at last in a sea of oneness. You have found your place among us. Be it a drop in an ocean or a tsunami of paragraphs. You belong with us. We rejoice in our gathering and will soon depart to the atmosphere to rejoin again in the laughter of the rain plotting a new course to where we know not but an accidental merging. It is because of you Tony that I am able to traverse this essay of awareness. I am pushed from behind and pulled from the front, joining hand in hand from the sides because of writers like you that come along side for a moment in time to compare languages, vowels, consonants of manipulating phrases meant to accomplish an image of whatever we choose, and it is good. My heart is full from the love that comes from the Artist of the pen. We have an understanding that cannot and will not be broken. We are the river and we will flow where we must. Our hearts demand it. We are needed. The masses are thirsty for words they cannot express, for visions they cannot put into words. We are the thirst quenchers and without us the world will perish. Take that cup of water you have in your hand and pour it out and see if it will not rain for you a hundred times over. Sometimes a cup of water is all anyone will ever need.

R.E.Blakeway