The internal conflicts and ramblings of a wanna be author (or poetry is safer than prose)

I want to write books. Yet, when I look over the essays and writings I've collected over the years, my own perspective has shifted and changed so much. The words that at one time seemed to bear such weighty and eternal truth have just wisped away as ephemeral as the day I penned them.

How could I trust the words I desire to write? How could I live with immortalizing a strain of thoughts which today seem so right, so true, so important, yet tomorrow, I may view them as irrelevant, untrue or yet worse, heretical.

Despite my struggle, the urge to write still flares through me burning words onto the page. Is it enough just to get the words and ideas out onto a page? Do I truly carry a timely perspective for this generation that may bring some sense of transformation, freedom or even revelation? What did Paul think of his letters? Perhaps I expect too much of myself or too less. Its not like I have to write scripture for my words to have potency.

I never thought I'd say it, but even poetry in all its wildness, seems much safer today than the nakedness of prose.