Why does one write?

Perhaps all I try with my words is to fashion you in my image of love?
It’s a gloomy world out here.
Broken homes, lonely lives,
Planes lost midflight; children homeless, lost and stolen.
Games of power that can thrill only if you know how to be thrilled.
But as I write these lines on the dust-laden window of my soul,
I see some of them evanesce into your image
Oh how lucid these thoughts seem when I see you,
In that half-dreamy moon light!
It is your beauty that shines onto this world.
The soft yellow mellifluous glow of your image,
makes every moment worth capturing.
Triviality loses meaning then.