These words are almost whispers. Some gentle movement, not a clear expression of vision, more akin to a raw creative eruption… Not the full mountain revealing its guts, just a splash of glowing rock bubbling over the ridge line of self. I thought earlier today that I had something to write, and maybe still I do. Whatever that was my come through this evening, though I would be surprised if it doesn’t wait, digesting, churning, dissolving to be something else…
Christmas Eve, 2021
Christmas Eve, 2021
Christmas Eve, 2021
These words are almost whispers. Some gentle movement, not a clear expression of vision, more akin to a raw creative eruption… Not the full mountain revealing its guts, just a splash of glowing rock bubbling over the ridge line of self. I thought earlier today that I had something to write, and maybe still I do. Whatever that was my come through this evening, though I would be surprised if it doesn’t wait, digesting, churning, dissolving to be something else…