Writer's Block

I've been trying to write all night in my journal. I thought I'd just write some prose or poetry or something because I feel that bursty feeling, like there is something I'm supposed to be putting out there, but I'm just not hitting on anything.

I keep hearing one of my favorite poems. It is so well put, it makes me think if everything poetic has already been said.

Here's the one line that keeps bouncing around my cerebrum

The weight of the world
is love.
Under the burden
of solitude,
under the burden
of dissatisfaction
the weight,
the weight we carry
is love.

What I'm about to say isn't what the writer was thinking exactly (or even nearly), but he's hitting on a theme in the human heart.

The weight we carry is love. He's perfectly spoken here. There's a great meter, and a great image. I feel this weight, it lies under the burden of my everyday life, there is a weight in loving people, in wanting to love people well. There is a weight in the hearts of men to be loved and to love deeply. It is God calling out to us.