Writing Diamonds


my pencil unearths a diamond;
rough, uncut
with natural beauty.

For the majority
my pencil unearths coal
and I appreciate every dark,
dusty, unfinished, imperfect,
unrefined stanza.

For this is the fuel
that keeps the literary fire burning;
that somewhere I turn
to warm my hands,
as I wait, patiently,
for cognitive plates to shift
and the carbon of my pencil
to bond with my creative conscience.