Before the Words Can Come
- RS
- Oct 20, 2017
- 1 min read
Sometimes I feel like I have so much to say but can’t say it. Like the words haven’t formed because the thoughts haven’t formed yet. Like there’s this backlog of … content, information, Me-ness that is waiting to come out but can’t because it’s still floating in the ether of the universe inside me.
It’s like there are meanings before there are words to convey them. Feelings, themes, opinions, thoughts, musings, reflections – but no vocabulary. No grammar. No mechanics yet. It is all … formless and waiting.
Coalescing like storm clouds beginning to form from atmospheric pressure, humidity, and temperature.
Like the grand potential inside a seed that hasn’t sprouted.
Like the energy potential in an atom.
It’s all there.
On the fringes.
On the edges of my metaphorical fingertips.
Waiting for me. Prompting me. Pulling at me, pushing at me.
It's trapped, and yet it's also un-containable.
It's times like this, times when I feel this, that I feel my belief in God is strongest.
Because these feelings are hints of the eternal, whisperings of the infinite, all inside me.
