To write creatively is to mediate a debate between dream and reality. An article of writing is a hypothetical assessment of communication amongst this precocious species of ours, which evolves on the fuel of words. Words beget situations, which in turn beget circumstances, which in turn begets a trial-and-error scenario from which we construct the future. To read a poem or novel, or to watch a play or opera, is to tap into a parallel universe that distorts the human condition into entertainment, while at the very same time shaping it into a kind of compass on which the individual relies to navigate the forestry of outside voices that he or she is compelled to process and evaluate, practically in perpetuity. The first poem I ever wrote in artistic and communicative earnest is nearing its thirtieth anniversary. I called it “A Coming-Out Party,” and ironically, revealed its existence to no one for at least two years after its composition. It’s a not-uncommon gesture for someone who has penned their first piece of creative writing. In twenty lines, I felt I had said more than I had ever said in the combined duration of years that preceded it. One’s first piece of writing is a mission statement, a proclamation of a writer’s perception of the truth. The revelation of a perceived truth can be a daunting act, but when we have settled on a truth that we are at peace with, we are all granted access to the world of writing.