I feel greatness and it is here for me.
And perhaps one day I shall
articulate the ineffable.

There are things I see and I feel and I know.
Writing has chosen me.
And in that it has chosen me,
I feel the deepest humility.

I feel the flow of life and I hear the voice of truth.
I feel it in work and I feel
work is no longer a four letter word.
It is not money and it is not status
and it is not an addiction.
I no longer use it to avoid but to discover myself.

To write is to live honest and free
pure and simple and with integrity.

I wrote this piece and I am not ready for it.
It is so heavy and dense that it kind of intimidates me.
It makes me think, it’s not even mine.
It just is.

Like buried treasure.
I discovered it but I cannot own it.
It exists before and after and without me.

I am no one.

But I will say this.
Writing is my salvation.
Not just meditation.
Not just creation.
But a means to something greater.
God, even.