Incomplete Thoughts From An Incomplete Man

I pick up this pen and the ink hits the paper, not because I have anything to write, but because I must write everything. As I look around I see the the steam rise over a vast field during a hot summer day, straight ahead I find a sunset spreading what's left of its rays across the vast ocean. And still surround by all this beauty I find myself wondering why I feel incomplete. Its not until I let go of myself that these mere pictures hanging on the walls can take on their true shape and meaning. It's not until I give up those wants that I can truly live.