Monday, November 24, 2014

Unscriven

There are times when writing is an agony:  drawing forth each word is akin to drawing a splinter from where it has lodged deep under the skin, or drawing the body forward one more step in the last miles of a marathon. Millions and millions of phrases are at one's fingertips, yet no combination is remotely sufficient to convey the depth and breadth of the tumult within the soul. How to describe the pathos, the rapture, the fire that forms the core of our humanity?  All we can do is lay bare our inadequacy, and hope that the things that remain unspoken, are nevertheless understood.

Picture copyright 2014, Mediocria Firma. Used with gratitude.

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