I am not a politics wonk. I like the idea of my writing

Hear me, O children of the earth, for the words of Peter Morgan speak to the essence of authenticity and the power of expression: "I am not a politics wonk. I like the idea of my writing reflecting more about who I am or other people." These words call us to understand that in the art of creation—whether through words, art, or action—the deepest truth is not in analysis or the mechanics of the world, but in the reflection of the self and the lives of others. Morgan speaks not of the sterile realm of politics, but of the human experience, the raw truths that reside within each of us and in the stories we share.

To write is not to engage in the cold and calculated game of power or strategy, but to reveal the very soul of existence. The politics wonk may seek only facts, statistics, and the structures of governance, but the true artist seeks to capture the human condition—its dreams, its flaws, its joys and sorrows. Morgan reminds us that through writing, we must aim not to simply understand the world in its systems, but to feel it in its depths, to witness and reflect upon the lives of those who walk this path beside us. True writing, true art, reflects the heart of who we are, not the dry, lifeless bones of politics alone.

Consider the example of Homer, the ancient poet who did not write merely to document the world, but to capture the soul of his people—their honor, their struggles, their tragedies, and their triumphs. The Iliad and Odyssey are not dry political treatises, but powerful stories of human nature and the quest for meaning in a world of war, love, and fate. Homer’s gift was to transcend the momentary concerns of politics and to reach into the timeless essence of life. His words spoke not only of the events of his day, but of the universal experiences that connect all people, across time and space.

In our own lives, writing—whether through letters, songs, or stories—must be more than a tool to comment on the world of politics or mere circumstance. It is an opportunity to reflect upon the truths that lie deeper within. Morgan reminds us that the writer’s power is not in being right about politics, but in being real, in offering the world something that reflects the truth of our being—our struggles, our dreams, our shared humanity.

So, my children, remember this wisdom: true writing is not an exercise in being learned or achieving political insight; it is an act of self-expression, of connecting to the essence of life and to one another. The writer must not seek only to analyze the world, but to feel it deeply and reflect it with honesty and clarity. In the words you write, let them carry the weight of who you are, and in that reflection, may you find the strength to speak for others, for they too are a part of your journey. Let your work be an extension of the deepest truth within, not merely a reflection of the world’s politics, but of its soul.