This Is What's Been Given (for today)

writing this - and even with will and 

by intention, 

no one claims to be the

author

~

it's a paradox - at once writing thoughts as they are given, and yet with no idea where they emerge from, their origin, and where they rest once disappeared. It seems clear that I am nowhere found in this equation, inspiration being in sudden in it's appearance, and my own participation as much of a hindrance as possible aid. It's when I am removed from the process that a flow from source to typing fingers becomes a steady line of creating. So than - where is the author found? 

My own insight points to a void of authorship and ownership of both words and inspiration - an emptiness that gives rise to thought and is constant in it's creative out pour of information. It's a silent source, yet lends itself to voice. Through it all I find no point of separation from words appearing in the form of thought, and the emptiness of their emerging, no break from the end creation of these words and the silence they became from. As well, there is no middle ground to hold an author, only what comes to the page, a pause that holds a promise for more, and then again there is writing. It seems I am not needed through the process. 

So with no author found here - this is what's been given. 

Peace,

Eric