Currents of Composition: Writing Unburdened

As I sat in the hush of hesitation,
Frosty fingers on keys lay still,
Yearning for inspiration,
For thoughts to rise and words distill

It had been many years since I was involved in academics, and when I started taking classes this fall, I was worried that I had forgotten too much, or that I wouldn't be able to absorb material as quickly as I once had. That led to moments of hesitation, where I sat paralyzed by my own fear of failure. Thoughts flooded my mind, like a rushing tide of uncertainty. I choked and sputtered, struggling to find my footing amidst the overwhelming rust of an unused mind. I used to tell myself that “practice makes perfect,” yet perfection is an illusion, with more to learn in every line we write. The fluidity of words is the life spring of ideas, ever changing and flowing. Words are also reflected in the endless possibilities of rivers touching, rushing, and flowing into great bodies of water, glistening against each idea marked by the sun's gilding rays. Which direction can I take this thought? How does one chart the best course, on a tide of so many tempting peaks, shimmering with curiosity? In the indecision of choices, this class was the anchor dropped to fasten me to a timeline. Objectives were set, and I was no longer set adrift. As a literary wanderer, I chaffed against the rope that incipiently bound me. Slowly, I began to pull on shining threads of thought and grasped them with delicate hands. I learned to condense them into coherent streams, trickling gently into canals of concept that are manageable to guide. I’ve come to rely on what I’ve learned, unburdened by the fear of failure. Now, I lean into the yielding charity of revision, where each mistake trickles into a lesson learned.