From the Quiet

Gray half-light in the room. Soft, rhythmic breathing of morning sleep, together with gentle lull of the wall heater in the hall.

From this place I ponder, from this place I consider, from this place I write. Volumes pour into, out of my head. Only maybe a fraction do I capture.

From this baseline I strive, intend and share out. Does it matter? Does it help anyone?

It matters to me. It helps me. That is enough. If it rings true, inspires others, all the better.

This is my path.


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