Why are we creative? Why do we seek to write, sing, and paint? How can we make something from nothing?

You promised that we wouldn't come to this place
promised that we'd be okay
it's all right, you said, but there's no light
and only the evergreens aren't dead
or afraid.

I keep my heart tucked under sand
I keep my soul buried under land
there is the sun, you say, but the morning's not come
ancient, dry bones turned to clay
in my hand.

Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE TH

Don't tell me I put up a good fight. 
I lost.  Nothing will change that.
Don't tell me I did well.
I didn't.  I failed you, myself, and everyone else.
Don't tell me everything is okay.
Do you think I'm blind?  I know the world isn't perfect.
Don't tell me everything will be fine.
Not everyone gets a happy ending.
I don't want lies, even nice ones.
You can pretend everything is okay.  You can smile and sing and shut your eyes to everything.
It won't fix things.
You can believe in fairytales.

That Christmas morn I early woke

Eager to rise,

To see the bright skies,

Which brought that man when dawn had broke.

That man was a merchant of faraway lands.

He came every Christmas,

Came down to our isthmus,

And brought with him always a gift in his hands.

My mother and father came down in a hurry,

So glad for his coming,

Glad, yes, even humming.

We all sang a carol with the snow’s drumming flurry.

Then all of us got in the carriage to ride

The race then loomed ahead of me –

The long race that would make me free.

Free to run and free to fly;

That was the race before my eye.

I raced laps one, and two, then three,

Yes this lap would really make me free.

Free to run and free to fly;

This was the race before my eye.

The fourth lap then made me want to be

A runner forever – yes, then I’d be free!

Free to run and free to fly;

This was the race before my eye.

Then the fifth lap came after me.

Sometimes I think about the world in my stories and wonder who and what I would be if I could enter that world and live there with all my characters. What would my life be like there? Would I be a Selkie, living in the sea and visiting human lands in search of new adventures? Would I be an Elenali, flying amid the tall trees and weaving clever enchantments? Maybe I would be a human, living in the mountains or the forest, or maybe even the lost Isle of Tânynis.

The wind sang light and lilting tunes,
Amidst the eerie, midnight gloom
And in the glowing of the moon,
I sat and thought a while.

What luminous thought did ignite
While I shunned the darkened respite?
I could wish naught but to stay up all night
And listen all the while.

And what could be as I looked aft
But a single, glimmering, shining shaft
Of silver light, and a ghostly laugh,
I sat, riveted, all the while.