I confess

I get high on my own supply

Every so often

I go back to my writing

I pick up a journal

From years ago

And travel back in time

To remember myself

I do so

Because my writing is for my soul

I write to save myself

To leave footprints in the sand

To remind my wandering soul

Of its way home

To remind my aching heart

Of grief it overcame

And learned to love again

I write for my future self

To conjure words into spells

And give them to the wind

To go ahead of me

And breathe to life

The desires of my heart

I write to witness my present

To immortalize the fleeting moments

Of this fragile life

To capture a snapshot

And create a spec of light

Among the stars

To remind the universe

I was here

Yes

I am my own first audience

My own butler

Yet there is more room

More wine for us to dine together

Because my art

Is not mine alone

Will you join in?