this is how it seems, for right now, and these words simply left to note the expression of this moment - nothing more. The only truth in art, in any word left behind, is captured briefly in creation, and then the hope of something, perhaps a bit of grace, carried through in later observation. Everything I write is fiction, really, a retelling of the spontaneous reception of what first inspired. My role is patience, remembering, and arranging thoughts in artful decoration. Any insight that lingers is not for me to say as true, to claim as my own, or try to give away. How things seem, how they appear - is a temporary truth for myself alone.
And then these words
are left behind.
~
Peace,
Eric
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