I have to write something
The way ink runs off the porch, sprayed from the hose
When I wash green algae away with black night.
I have to write something
The way the bird must flit away at the slam of a door
But always return to her nest
With a twig or a worm.
I have to write something
The way the headache presses behind my eyes
And sleep drags at my chin
And the foam sticks too hot at night against my back.
I have to write something
The way the bones in my ankles pop
When I fidget, restless, on the couch in yellow light
Nobody else awake, my fingers drunk on words.
I have to write something
For all the universes I will never know
For all of the people I could have been
All of the people I am, through time and space
The same soul clinging to itself in a thousand different forms
A worm, a bird, a magical waitress,
A sorcerer, a scientist, the one who discovers the portal between worlds
Only to find herself the same everywhere
although the endless reflections in the green mirror
are nothing alike.
I have to write something
I have to read something
I have to read everything
Nothing more devastating than a library
Balustrades, gold on the book spines, a millennium of human thought
Capsules, caterpillars in cocoons, 
Words on the eyes on the wings of the butterflies
Flying away
I know I could never read it all
Not in one lifetime
Not in all the lifetimes of my soul
It’s not right
And so I have to write.

[Featured Image: quill and ink, Creative Commons license]