Let the words flow from my pen as the river flows to the sea. Let them be straight and true, a light in the darkness, illuminating, revealing treasures always present but only seen when the magic of the words lifts the fog, the shroud masking the life within.

Let my words be a beacon, a guide for travelers seeking home. Let them be an anchor, safe, secure, keeping one from drifting or crashing on the rocks.

Words, when skillfully aimed, may pierce the thickest armor, may melt the ice that freezes the heart of the lonely warrior.

And so my prayer this day is to willfully and carefully choose my words that they may be a force for good, an expression of life, a refuge for the lost, the weary, the hungry. Let them take root and grow, bearing fruit, perpetuating whatever wisdom they contain.

Let my words reveal the full spectrum of the rainbow, favoring none but loving all for being essential to our very existence, for if one was absent, all would cease to be. The puzzle of life that lays before us each day needs every piece to be a complete picture. Let my words assume their rightful place in that picture, and guide my pen to craft them so they fit harmoniously, blending seamlessly, smoothly into the whole.

If I can do these things, craft beauty with my words, then perhaps I will have discovered the purpose for my being.