What Can I Write?

What can I write that hasn’t been written?
A verse tonight so old and bared,
My simple soul the word has smitten,
To explain what my heart to my mind has shared.

What can I say that hasn’t been said?
I’m no man of prestige to be esteemed,
But to my essence truth indeed was fed,
As a light to my mind, in my chest it gleamed.

What can I explain that hasn’t been taught?
Like I said, I am no man of class,
But honest goodness and truth I’ve sought,
While peering through a sea of glass.

What can I do that hasn’t been done?
Many before me have in the night cried,
And prayed for new life from the rays of Sun,
When everything else inside them has died.

Where can I turn when there is nowhere to go?
When there is not an ounce of solace to be found,
When you’re tossed in the tempest so to and fro,
And its waves o’er your head relentlessly pound?

What is an answer that hasn’t been given
So many and many times before?
Whiteness perfect, the snow that is driven,
Yet it is cold ‘til you knock on the door.

What can I feel that hasn’t been felt
By my very own true God?
Though I’ve struggled with troubles that I’ve been dealt,
I know my path before has been trod.

Whose hearts can I touch that have not yet seen,
What it means to love and to live?
Nothing more precious the beautiful scene,
When one to a friend their heart does give.

What can I write now that has not been written?
Nothing at all I suppose,
But I repeat the words that to me have been given,
By life’s angels that within my mind did compose.

-Jacob Winterfeldt