I have realized that what I wished for was unrealizable.

No, not that I can’t do a cartwheel. Although, that is rather embarrassing. I think I’ve realized my contrived avenue to importance has come in the form of words. My blog. Here it is.

Because I can conjure forms of verse and prose that take me past today and yesterday, in any direction I care to tread. It makes me king and queen at one and the same time; colonels in the charge; Patton on the field. Into the valley of death, rode Jeff the Greatest General.

It excites a freedom and agitates the cages of now. Why else would I write like Paul, pretending a stalwart faith? Or even better: Why pretend to be a Peter who does not deny his Christ? In writing, I can change all manner of time, all manner of deeds—indeed, I can change myself. I can be then and there what I am not now.

I am not oblivious to the Truth, because the Truth is part of me. But there is nonetheless an escape in cadence and form—the hop, skip, and jump of vitriolic words and refulgent paragraphs of praise. Here is my importance, nested in the token stories and characters I form. What was it Adam said (I’ve quoted many times)? “Did I solicit thee from darkness to promote me?”

No Mattaman asked to be built, no Franklin called to be ushered into being, no Jean begged to be fleshed into a man. But I have done this, just the same, because they cannot say back to me: Writer, put me down. I raise them up for me, and me alone. Because I am made important in them, and they in me. No sense in denying the obvious, no point in upsetting the Truth.

But is it an awful thing, a sin? No more than shopping dulls our heartache and sex diverts our lack of love to thrusting. No, I’m ok with sloughing off the status quo and being, for a time, in my world. For I am all that I wish for in my world. Though by its nature, it must sometimes fade and I am filled with that reality. Let it come, but let it also sometimes go.

Do you know what it is that I mean to mean?