March 17th, 2009

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On Being Daunted

I noticed myself talking (and thinking) about being daunted and outclassed for the Nth time this morning. And well, I suppose that's an inevitable part of being a neopro, when one suddenly realizes there are people who will read what one writes so it probably shouldn't suck. But y'know, I was almost too daunted to add my voice to the nine things about oracles, and that would have sucked more than anything I might have written.

So I grabbed that nagging Voice Of Doubt by the scruff of its... vowels?... and asked what the hell it had to say for itself. This is what it gave me.


On being daunted

I've always thought the Faerie blood runs true
in those who can, with gramarye and ink,
send marvels bright and real before my view --
and with one twist of thought, change how I think.

They are fantastic. I am -- well, I write,
but they soar smooth across the gloaming sky
on words that both illuminate and bite
while I stand earthbound; scared to even try

I build my baby castles on the shore
beside the siren thunder of the sea.
It sings my insignificance, but more --
it resonates in salt and song -- in me.

And if my muddled voice can heed that call,
Then poets might be human after all.