Letter 4380
The forest beside which I live was there long before me. It will be there after I am gone.
I did not will myself to existence. The life in my heart, it came from elsewhere.
In my quiet room, I struggle to create. So many discarded attempts. Is anything worthy of an audience?
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Let me, Lord, approach these lines as I do the forest. They were always here, I simply through them and try to see their beauty.
Consider:
Can I see the beauty already here?
Reading:
❖ “Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality.” — T. S. Eliot
❖ “The woods are lovely, dark and deep.” — Robert Frost
❖ “The preparations of the heart in man, and the answer of the tongue, is from the LORD.” — Proverbs 16:1
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~B.R.