I’m surprised to bother publishing all of this. But it’s a tip toward what I seem to love.
I love writing. I love words. And I love throwing them together. Letting it come alive.
Believe, I’m well aware of how one may only write without accomplishment.
Little changing…
But sometimes it’s okay to believe that writing does more for you. That it means something.
That all of these words sacrificed add up to something not yet known, not yet perceived. But if you stick around (and you will, for however long you will) you’ll see.
You’ll remember that pivotal moment, only surfaced through a faded entry.
A letter falls out of your file box of college, or of vacations, of cottages you once tended.
All is revealed.