The Vicious Cycle

As free as the air,

Water, Earth, ink on a page,

Falling to ashes

First, inspiration,

Then, planning and plotting out,

Story, poem, prose.

Time flows like water,

Ink dries on paper, as the

Candles burn and dim.

Hope, that brittle thing,

Solid and fragile as Earth,

Is the last to die.

In almost two years of writing on this platform, I've never placed in a Vocal Challenge.

I've been a runner-up once, among a comparatively small pool of entries where I had a 1 in 10 chance of winning (I did the math...). In most Challenges, my chances are more like 1 in several hundred. That's the issue with free-for-members challenges: everyone enters, often multiple times, and there are only so many prizes to give out.

I've entered all of them: poetry, fiction, non-fiction, words from the heart, pouring my joys and traumas and loves and sorrows and imagination onto page after page.

Each time, I think, "Sure, none of the judges have cared much about my work before, but maybe this time..."

Each time, I get my hopes up.

Each time, the winners are announced... and my name is nowhere to be found.

I doubt this time will be any different.

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