there's a certain grace in writing, that I can bare witness to an empty page and participate in the spontaneous appearance of words - and still find myself with a sense of fulfillment for words then left behind. Truthfully, it's simply a matter of arranging what's been given. I have no real notion of what will appear and put faith only in my ability to wait, the same patience of the page, that words come on their own, with nothing to prompt their fall. That there is grace, my waiting paid for in full by a flow of words that come without my concern for what will be told - that too is an appearance of its own. This than, is a certain grace, with words noted of its passing.
~
Peace,
Eric
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