Poised From The Edge

Poised from the edge: 

some mornings I have no idea of what's to be written, no hint of theme nor inspiration, only the emptiness of the page before me, open, available to whatever ideas might find me. This is at once overwhelming in its task ahead, as well as full of promise - that anything could be written, beauty expressed, deep meaning found, and it's all right at my fingertips now, poised on the edge of an empty page. 

waiting for ideas to find me. 

in times past I would suffer the anxiety of this wait, experiencing writer's block for weeks on end, searching for any trick that might key my inspiration. I never realized then that silence was the process, that to be poised on the edge of emptiness meant that I was ready for the entirety of the universe to be expressed through me, anything at all, everything, my fingertips touched this edge and found their potential in the void. But being frightened I would back away, not knowing that silence is the only true way of inspiration and that to wait for ideas is a gift to the soul, a time to match the emptiness of the page with my own capacity to hold whatever themes appear. 

that's how writing happens, poised on the edge of emptiness...

seeing my reflection. 

and writing from here. 

it's not so frightening any longer, I'm more patient now, unafraid to sit at length in silence. Peering from the edge I've found my own reflection, void finding void and realizing myself as capacity for words, inspiration, more so, the entire world appears here, right at my fingertips - 

ready to be written. 

~

Peace, Eric