Novel Writing

You think the demarcations of right and wrong for me
Are clearer in the shadows, that somehow I can see –
Just where to go, each turning, without a second thought,
You've got it wrong – I'm learning each day how I should walk.

I do not walk some tightrope afraid to make a goof,
I live my life quite boldly, no fences, gates, or roof;
I listen to the Spirit which shows a better way,
Considering the feedback received from folks each day.

For people are one channel I use to guide my life ,
As we walk on together – co-workers, friends, and wife,
And multitudes of others as circles outward go;
We bumble on together – through people we can know.

Then, records of the others who've passed through life before,
Give tips and hints and guidelines which help me out some more;
Such richness in the Scriptures brings flavour to my ways –
Like others, I've a culture that's been through all my days.

So, thanks for laughter, joking, and challenging my walk –
I'll put it in the hopper, lest quality be talk;
When circumscribed my vision, my life quite stagnant gets,
The North-star guides my journey, it works for me and yet –

No person lives in star-land, it guides us from afar;
Perfection has no meaning apart from that, by gar;
So don't confuse my actions when less than up to par,
With best in life for people, what end-time values are.

My line of demarcation both strait and narrow is;
Not "straight" but “strait” – as "tightness of fit" depicts this biz;
Like bicycles or driving, the wheel goes back and forth,
With many small corrections, maintaining central course.

Sometimes I fit quite snugly between two obstacles;
Sometimes there's no such problem, the road is broad which goes
To where I want to travel, but challenge to me comes
When many my possessions – to walk where goodness runs.

A gate they called "The Needle" was in an ancient wall,
'Twas big enough for camels, no pack, no rider small;
To pass through to the inside, one did so on one's knees,
Crouched down there with one's camel – no baggage if you please.

So Jesus said, "It's harder for rich to walk God's way,
Than camels in the needle – the baggage has to stay";
"The trouble with a white man", a Cree said years ago,
"They don't own their possessions, they're owned by them – I know."

Now money and possessions don't bother many folks,
But people, thoughts, vocations, are content of their yolks;
It matters not – it's conflict of which I like to write –
My novels would be boring if easy was the right.

Take Arthur and his brother – both growing up like us;
Add illness, war, and farming – now there's a pretty muss;
I put them in the conflict and put the pressure on,
Then let them live their lives out, discerning right from wrong.

For quality's a hard one, and we all struggle there;
Such stories must be truthful when folks their lives compare,
If they are to be helpful, bring issues to the fore,
Add richness to their cultures, where they've not been before.

I raise for them dimensions of conflict deep within,
Implicit is a standard – "Choose quality not sin";
("Sin" means that we're rebelling from highest and the best –
An attitude of evil – "It's me, so hang the rest".)

Put people in such conflict, give each a life to live,
Then plots emerge aplenty, and each has lots to give
As they live on together and help each other out –
Confusion mixed with knowing, and certainty with doubt.

"Make lists of all your failings, and struggles from your past,
The names that others call you – they have a place at last:
For they make up the people you sprinkle through your books,
You understand their conflicts – in each you've had a look."

So said the writing guru on how to stories and make,
Which people read with interest, and films from them create;
But if that never happens, it gives a chance to think
About the life we're living, right here – out on the brink.

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