Authority

I don't really want to write. I feel it pushing, pressing, ironing out wrinkles in metaphor and the like. It weighs me down. But I don't appreciate the pressure.

Idle nights with coffee were one thing. Waiting. These nights, raining question marks, lightning only to illuminate shortcomings, thunder to remind of atonement. Pandora radio to remind me I'm still here.

So many lack it though. Authority. Some is sneaky, ill-advised capitulation. Nexus lost. "Cave in. Listen here." In this Choose Your Own Adventure, that seems like a non-issue. You'll choose more interesting depth over cave-ins? Oh, you won't?" Swat.

I hit myself on the nose with a newspaper often enough.

Author, though. Who is it? Logos only go so far. The Word is still alive, and not even God knows how.