Why I Write, and What I Hope You’ll Find Here
Author: Robert LiPuma
Some people ask me what I meant by a line I wrote.
Others ask why I didn’t explain more.
And every time, I hesitate—
not because I don’t know what it meant to me,
but because I believe it might mean something entirely different to you.
That’s the quiet power of writing.
It becomes yours once it leaves me.
And the meaning?
That’s yours to find—when you’re ready.
This is why I’m beginning a new rhythm here at Glimpse:
One poem, every month.
Not to be decoded. Not to be solved.
But to be noticed.
Held.
Returned to, like light through a window you didn’t realize was there.
Each poem will be a reflection—sometimes personal, sometimes spiritual, sometimes both.
But always written with one hope:
that somewhere in it, you’ll find something that feels like yours.
To begin, I’m sharing a poem that’s become a kind of compass for me.
It explains what I believe about meaning, words, and the quiet work of becoming.
A Gift to Keep
by Robert LiPuma
If I reveal the words I speak,
I steal from you the gift they keep.
You wonder what they truly mean—
the mystery tucked within each seam.
Each reader sees a different light,
a quiet truth, a shadowed flight.
No meaning fixed, no answer true—
the meaning lives inside of you.
The words you see become your own,
unfolding when your heart has grown.
For what you find is yours to keep—
and I shall guard this gift you seek.
So if you ask, I turn away.
It is a game I often play.
For if I speak, I shall not say.
Tomorrow brings another day.
You can expect a new poem like this each month.
Sometimes rooted in faith.
Sometimes in healing.
Sometimes in the sacred silence that holds us between the two.
Until then—
thank you for reading.
Thank you for holding space for reflection.
This poem is yours now.
May it be a gift you keep.
—
Next week: We begin May’s poem on the theme of becoming.
