The other day, my brother asked if I’d managed to build a following for my blog.
Well, I’m not particularly trying to build a crowd; I’m trying to become a star – one that shines with words.
Even if I exist as a solitary star in a quiet corner of the universe, that doesn’t matter. A star doesn’t ask who is watching. It burns with its own inner fire.
My writing is that light. Like starlight, it may travel a long time before anyone sees it. By the time a reader looks up and notices, I may be gone, but still exist in my works as an afterglow in the mind of another. And that’s enough.
What they’ll meet on the page is therefore not who I am in that moment, but who I was when those words were born: a distant glowing past; a scatter of stardust still making its way through the dark, its light still streaming.
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