Sometimes I just need to write with no meaning. 
Just let words be words 
Instead of drowning in undercurrents of emotions.
Not all wars are won with blood red ink staining the page. 
Sometimes the greatest victory 
Is simply creating with no purpose at all. 
Solely enjoying the process for what it is, 
A realignment with my soul. 

For so long, words were the only surviving evidence of the conflict. 
Proof that it was all real. 
So I held on, of course. 
I wrote from pain and heartache. 
I released odes to wars fought and battles won. 
My words lamented over loss, rejoiced over victory. 
Yet, with every stroke of the pen, 
The darkness loomed closer. 
With it, came shadows that crept ever slowly through my mind. 
Stealing the bulbs out of every place I fought to illuminate. 

To write in the dark, is impossible
Or so I found out one word at a time.
Because what I failed to understand,
Is in preserving the evidence, 
I incubated the eggs that pain had left behind. 
Creating an apt habitat for their diseases to spread.
Diseases that rot away peace, joy, and hope little by little. 

And the cure? 
The cure was letting go. 

Words have the power to document, sure,
But they also hold the authority to release. 
So, sometimes, I just need to write with no meaning. 
Rebellion doesn’t always come dressed in armor and chaos. 
Rebellion could simply be holding a seat for peace
Where there should have been standing room only. 

So I write, 
And I write, 
And I write. 

No longer to ensure my history is spoken for, 
But to encourage light bulbs in empty fixtures 
And a fully healed future.