(no subject)

There’s a feeling in me that there’s something I need to type of high importance
That there is some revelation, some completion that I will reach if I can only put these feelings and thoughts into words
I find that hard these days
The thoughts and feelings that make the words are still living inside of me, but they haven’t come out in a long time
I feel that if I type long enough, though, if I try to push it out long enough, they will start to come out again

I feel full of ideas, eternally pregnant with stories and words that have yet to be born

How do I let you out, world?
I want you to come out
I want to explore you in the daylight on clean, unused pages
I want to see the creations you become

Today I went walking in the fog
I went down a path into the trees
I came out onto a bluff
The ground spilled over, turned into purple flowers slanting downward
There was a bench, and I stood on it
The air opened out and below me I could see forests and the sea
The fog rode over the water in waves
I watched the fog roll inland
It covered the forests
It moved forward, it shrouded the trees to the right and the left
It stood in front of me, the fog
A white wall, a dome, a looking glass
I put away my glasses
I looked into it naked-eyed
I saw a wall of white
I saw my thoughts only