Words have fled me nearly entirely, lately.
No sooner do they begin to form,
than they melt away to nothing, like
an old letter tossed on a fire.
Perhaps I should try harder, though
I already know this is not what is asked.
I bow down, now, seeing truly for the first
that these words, too, were never mine.
They were given, as all else has been given.
And it is good to be humbled this way;
to be down on one's knees and
burning through the illusions of
one's personal specialness.
The words were always offered through grace, and
through grace alone will they come again.
In the meantime, perhaps even the sharing
of this emptiness will find its way to a heart
whose experience matches my own and
offer a precious moment of comfort.
Love and courage,