The Need For Love

I’ve become too much like a stenographer in my writing. I bore myself. “I did X,” I write Y. In math lingo, it’s as stimulating as 1 = 1.

I want to sledgehammer the confines within which I find myself. Obliterate their caved-in walls.

Only a Titanic-sized vessel of dynamite will do.

Then the Amazon will flow ruthless and unapologetically downstream, over the weeping willow’s root, over the coals where a fire once glowed, its flames igniting the passion of two young lovers. Their words carved for eternity:

Love

is all

there is.

Love, Jaclynn