On Writing

I am feeling that urge again- the big bubble at the bottom of my heart, growing at a steady rate, waiting to burst. It's that feeling like you need to extend out of your limbs, out of your limits. There is something physical waiting to burst out of my fingertips. My desire to create is literally a physical pressure. I believe this is a passion given for a reason, and I am consumed with pursuing not only the end result but also the process. I just want the product to be better than okay, more than "that's good". I want it to capture breath and run away with it. I want to be amazed by the gift hashed out through my own effort. I want to participate in creation and see the natural revelation. It's like I'm always chasing this elusive rainbow only to realize it was a momentary trick of light. I want to finally witness a vibrant rainbow, and know that He allowed me to paint the brightest color. I'm yearning to add to the magnificence of creation.