Faith is a knowledge within the heart, beyond the reach of proof. — Khalil Gibran
We are left here alone to create, to edit, to choose the choices our characters decide to take. Someone has to trust in us. Someone has to believe we are going to get somewhere with this. So we, us writers, must do the believing. We must have faith in ourselves and our work even when no one else can see the value. Even when we have nothing to prove, we are at our best when we believe and have faith in ourselves.
“I’m a little purple person,” it whispered in my ear. “I run and frolick and think of the many ways I can return to you. It’s just a matter of getting to you.” It takes ten huge steps away from me, but since it’s so small it doesn’t get more then 3 inches from my face. It sits, crosses it’s legs, and faces me. “In between the spaces is space, my dear poet, it’s space to be filled with memories and love and if you even feel the need, hate.” The little purple person then lays down staring at my popcorn ceiling, and places two arms behind his head. “And if you must know, my dear poet, the space between my maddening choices is balance. Where the imagination runs wild because the madness isn’t present, but it was and it will be. Some call it peace, but I believe, my dear poet,” he faces me now, “it’s best left temporary. Because to grow we must change.” He goes silent and slowly closes his eyes. I study this tiny person. He must be no bigger than my thumb. I roll over and look at my popcorn ceiling. My eyes slowly close. That could be true, it could be true.