There's a Universe in Here

not meant to be human.

There are days when writing comes to me

like waves in an ocean

one after another

limitless and open

then

there are days where writing comes

like rain in a desert

eager for anything

barren and burned

I could go months without rain

and somehow survive

for writers are like cacti

who don't easily die

but also

we are like whales

who live for the plunge

but often need air

to soothe our deep lungs

and sometimes

we are human

with nothing but our hands

pilgrims without destinations

architects without plans

but a writer is not meant to be human