The Pearl...

There was a pearl...

...an exquisite jewel, a work of art so magnificent-its inviting beauty so captivating-that once beheld the memory lingered forever, always beckoning the beholder to return to it, to bask once more in its magnificent radiance.

To gaze upon its beauty was to behold a bite sized bit of paradise. Reflected from its dark surface was every colour of the rainbow-shimering, moving, dancing to some ancient rhythm-unheard by most but experienced by all-beautiful in its mystery.  The light-dance spoke of lives past and loves to come… of war and friendship and hope…of triumph and defeat…of simple things and complexities beyond comprehension…of regrets and hopes…The light-dance spoke of LIFE!

There were those who sought to own the pearl, not for its beauty but for their own pride. In their care the pearl soon lost its luster; its lights faded and all that could be seen was its dark surface.

Then...it was returned to its rightful owners and for a moment there was hope-the dancing lights flared up...! But only fleetingly. They that should have cared for the pearl-nurtured it back to its breathtaking beautiful self-used it even worse...

The pearl faded and waited to die…

One can still catch the occasional flash of dancing lights across the pearl’s dull cracked surface-a brief flare of rainbow in motion-a reminder, a promise that all is not lost…

Someday...

Someday, the pearl will live again and the light-dance shall be seen by all to the ends of the earth.

To write...or not to write…?

I start to write…I check myself…and I start again…and I check again…and start again…

Too many false starts! I tell myself “Just write already!”

…I’ll check at the end…

Miraculously I finish…The check begins…

The basics like grammar and spelling are ok, definitely not flawless, but whatever errors are there are intentional, parts of the writing style, you could say…

But the content…

Is it critical enough, or too critical? Is it funny? It is? Too funny the message is smothered by the humour? Or is it too serious, boring even? Is my dialogue too heated? Am I too cold? How much ME is out there on those pages? Have I, in my struggle to pen the perfect piece, stripped myself naked of all the protective layers? Laid myself bare for all? Is there enough fact, or too much? Is it too fictitious? Have I quoted enough scripture, or too much? Have I used too many big words, or too few? Stepped on a few toes or trod too carefully? Would my mother read this and wince? Would my father read this and smile? Would my subordinates read this and still respect me? Would my club friends throw me out? Would my church friends still welcome me? Would I, on another day, read this and think “Who IS that person?”?

I start to write to express myself, I start to write to understand and be understood…but when I finish, I wonder…

Would it not have been better not to write at all?