There are some who write endless streams of words,
describing the minutiae with detail
that just boggles the imagination;
and every so often, epiphanies
result, for me, just from reading the stuff.
But the writer shows no visible sign
of having grown or changed from the event –
as if it hadn’t happened in their life.
Then there are others, who in one small word
show signs of positive evolution,
and actually learn from their experience.
It takes both kinds to make a world, I guess;
but if own your life does not involve you,
what is the point of writing it all down?