Still.
I need space
around words
to help me think.
Penning the internal
is not
for crowded,
marginless
pages,
heavy with ink.
These thoughts come
only
as I watch.
Listen.
Breathe.
And wait.
Writing instrument
in hand.
Fine-lined letters
taking shape
swiftly.
Then pausing.
Silent.
Spare.
Slowly.
Spilling
mind to pen
on paper.
I rarely expect
what lands in
space.
Black
on white.
Permanent ink
remains.
Still.
2 replies on “Space”
I spent 6 hours alone driving yesterday and that space allowed me to pray and cry and sing in equal measure. Silence and space are important!
Thanks for sharing this. Those long car drives are some of my favorite “spaces” for communion with Him. Grace to you, sister.