You’ve got a way with words. When you let them breathe. But talent left unattended, can vanish quietly. You can turn in something decent. You can call that good enough. Or you can ask the harder question, what are you really made of. A line can be a window. A sentence can be a spark. But first you have to show up, and bring yourself to the mark. There’s a bigger page, than the one you’re standing on. There’s a stronger voice, waiting when the doubt is gone. If you only dream in circles, you’ll end up where you began. Write a little braver, than you think you can. You heard a bitter whisper, trying to dim your light. But don’t let someone’s shadow, tell your heart what it can write. There’s a story in the making. If you learn to follow through. And the world gets so much wider, when you expect more out of you. A word can start a question. A question lights the way. But first you have to listen, to more than yesterday. There’s a bigger page, than the one you’re standing on. There’s a stronger voice, waiting when the doubt is gone. If you only dream in circles, you’ll end up where you began. Write a little braver, than you think you can. Maybe it’s a byline. Maybe it’s a prize. Maybe even Pulitzer. Somewhere down the line. Maybe it’s a classroom. Maybe it’s a city desk. Maybe it’s the courage. To give tomorrow your best. There’s a bigger page, than the one you’re standing on. There’s a stronger voice, waiting when the doubt is gone. If you only dream in circles, you’ll end up where you began. Write a little braver, than you think you can. Write a little braver, than you think you can. There’s a bigger page, waiting in your hands.
