The last few years have been a whirlwind of searching. Searching for time I could not find. Searching for answers to questions I didn't even know how to ask. Searching for passion that had grown dormant and stale.
What could I do?
What do I love?
What am I good at?
How can I make money?
How can I find a way to keep my passions alive that grew in me far before having children or a husband?
How can I tend to those souls that matter more than anything to me now?
How can I do both?
Truth is, I don't know. I have no answers. Only inspiration.
Inspiration to do what I can do right now.
And once again, it is to write. The words in my head and the melody in my heart, they are alive and vibrant and raging from within. I don't have any clear answers, but I do have this. This writing, it takes nothing more than everything that I have. And that's enough.
So I will begin, something.
Something that could turn to ash.
Or something that could grow into something powerful beyond my imagination.
I hear your call, and I accept. Only inspiration.