Rev-evaluating the heart of writing

Coming around again
running in the circle again
You showed me clear
I write for me
I go to write
to feel and breathe
and hide
and cry...
but your ears
when your ears..
when your arms
were waiting for me!
more than my pen
more than my ruffed up
tuffed up
journal
tough paper that can not speak.
as Henry died, Hemingway wrote
He regretted all the things he could never pen again
memories and stories thrown up in smoke.
He died in despair because his immortal flame
died within him and did not live on in words
but do i not live on through you?
Let my only regret be i didn't give my words to you!
words attached to my heart
which you bought.
They were given and I used them
to build a safe place for myself
I see it
melting down by waves.
So I take my pen to the rock again
and ill give it back to You
to build.
don't stop Lord
don't stop writing in me.
Write in me
so I can write back
to You.