Write

Sometimes good, sometimes bad
  the point is not the way it turns out.
It's an experience, a discipline,
  a practice in waiting for words.
Listening to an inner voice,
  which is sometimes hard to hear.
Waiting, waiting for anything
  to appear on the page, just blank
Whiteness before the eyes,
  then comes the voices, of others
Heard and stored away,
  of all the experiences a life
Can bring crowding into
  the edges and out come words.
Words to heal, words to build up,
  words to think on, hear your own
Inner voice and words, not just
  to digest, but to grow in your own way.