Why Write?

Blue hair, blue eyes, blue sky, blue light.
Or will it be black tonight?
My brain is my palette,
My colour bowl,
 painting people and things
in hues and tints
Unconsciously.
The colours bleed into my words.
How can I write about my life, my heart, my mind
When there is so much going on in the world?
My voice is invisible-
sprawled out on an internet page,
read by an unseeing world.
People caught up in their own life, their own hearts, their own minds.
Why write anymore?
Why read anymore?
Why create anymore?
Spin a gossamer web like a white spider and wait.
Anticipate-
A fly-like-being shrouded in the silk of your words.
And if, miraculously,
you manage to catch a single mind in the tangle of your words,
Turn the page, sharpen the tip of your red pencil to a point
And begin from scratch.