An impulse is enough to remind you of what you love and truly cherish. In the recent years earning income from my writing has become so necessary that at moments I forget what it is to write for passion; to give in to the urge inside which at the very moment that I want to doze sends a flurry of words my way, sending table lamps crashing as I scout for the book to jot them down hurriedly.
Re-reading letters to a young poet, I remind myself of the necessity to go within. ‘Search for the cause, find the impetus that bids you write. Put it to test: Does it stretch out its roots in the deepest place of your heart? Can you avow that you would die if you were forbidden to write?’ asks Rilke.
I asked myself that again last night and the answer was an overwhelming yes. I found my heart pound as I read those words and knew why I write. Reading the book did one amazing thing yesterday. It took away my need for people to read my poems or even this blog. In its place is a joy as I type and see each alphabet make its appearance on the screen. It is not just my hand that’s talkative- my soul is quite chatty too. From where it sits, it sees newness in everything old and magic in the discovered new.
And now I find joy in all the writing I do. Whatever it maybe. Because once I am done taking care of the responsibility-writing (writing income that manages financial responsibilities) it is time to be responsible and write for the sheer joy of it.
Living in Grace 
It took away the need for people to read my poem or even this blog.
how true! I loved it.