Conception

It's such an alone thing
this thing
this act
of telling stories
composing a message
relaying your imagination
it's such a private thing
a sacred thing
so much like conception
but more intimate
constructing something out of nothing
someone out of nowhere
getting it straight
getting it right
or not at all
puddles of thoughts
that need putting together
like puzzle pieces
backtracking and skipping
always fixing fixing fixing
with a light and a pen
a scrap of an idea
changing
alone
having really no other choice
and the inherent fear
that after all this
this thing
this act

of sweating over a page
of sacrificing a fragment of yourself
on the altar of creation
for a fleeting feeling of fulfillment

followed by a bucketful of doubt
no one will care