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Unfound Soul

One of the most difficult times for the writers is the time when they lose their inspiration. They lose creativity, search for their muses, write many unpublished drafts, and cry in silence.

In such times, writers may try to seek an inspiring spot where they can find their lost skill. Other writers, may evoke their pain to find inspiration. Few writers may quit writing!

Quitting writing is a desperate resolution for the writers who lost their inspiration. They know that they want to avoid pain found in their writings, they seek peace, and they want to stop thinking.

Yet, it is not an easy decision to quit writing, because writers know that a part of their existence is reflected in each word they write, in each moment of pain they share with their readers, in each time they realize the meaning of life through writing, and in each moment they shed a tear!

My dear readers, it is not an easy decision to stop writing again, I stopped before for 6 or 7 years. But, my soul is no longer here, my inspiration is fading away, and my muse embodied in a butterfly is flying away!

I search inside my soul for a meaning to reveal through writings but I fail to find anything, except emptiness. Recently life was unkind to me and I have to fight all the time. Maybe it is just a matter of time and I will be back. Maybe, I will give up and surrender! I am not sure about what will happen but I am definite that I am losing my soul that is reflected in my writings!

I will miss your comments! Please pray for me to find my butterfly again! Thank you!






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Silence

I don't hear it, but I know it is talking to me, telling me about my falls and stands, dreams and nightmares, hopes and reality, and about people in my life and those who passed away. I am trying to ignore it; but deep down inside me, I know there is a part of me listing to it. Yet, sadness is an overwhelming burden that I am unwilling to take. It comes and brings all the unspoken words, the tears hidden by a fake smile, the pain in a seemingly happy heart, and the memories of the beloved ones who left us, whether on by or against their wills.
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Next day, the girl was sick in her bed and her mother was blaming her for disobedience. The little girl said to her mother: “Ok if rain causes cold and we are not supposed to enjoy it; then why did God create it in the first place?” The mother could not answer.

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