I can’t write poetry. I’ve tried to write it, but my efforts have always been terrible.
I can’t write music. I love music and I’m deeply moved by its magic — both words and lyrics — but I have no talent for writing songs.
I tried to write poetry and music when I was young. I even have a few samples of my attempts at verse. They’re awful but even through the awfulness of the bad art, I can feel the anguish of what I was trying to express when my pen wrote the words on paper.
For most of my life, I’ve felt a deep sense of longing. A sense of need. A panic. A fear. An emptiness that craved filling.
When I feel that — as I desperately do tonight — I feel an incredible urge to express it. My heart feels as though it’s going to explode in my chest. There’s so much I want to say — to express, to feel, to confess — and words aren’t ever enough.

Love & Hope — Episode 4:
As the gods of this world die off, we face a profound crisis of faith
Bride is 89 and the groom is 86,
What kind of hypocrite gives advice but won’t practice what he preaches?
Love is best thing to happen to us
I love my iPad, but I suspect that books are better for ‘deeper’ learning
Love & Hope — Episode 12:
The drama of a world gone mad leaves me longing for real peace
I have new book coming about living well in a broken culture