Pain to Live

Sometimes I think I don't want to be a writer, that maybe it's time to give up on passion and illumination and that indescribable gnawing hunger inside me.  That it would be so much easier to be complacent, indifferent.  Then, I see pictures of Santorini and start thinking about the theme of volcanoes and volcanic ash, life from under the ash and fertility out of death...and jump up to get my thoughts down on paper (even though I'm already running late for work).  And I realize, giving it up isn't really a possibility.