I thought I needed to write but by now I've talked most of it out. It seems Autumn is a time for words to fall from my head. Or a time when I wish they would because there is so much building up inside.
But one thing that still remains in the vines tangled inside me is this: You'll carry me out of exile. If I just stop squirming You'll pick me up. You'll make the effort to find me where I am and carry me where I need to go. I don't need to hear You in a song. I don't need to see You in words that I write or say, or hear another say. You'll speak when I'm listening with what looks to other ears like nothing is there. You'll speak when I'm listening.
I need to slow down to a nothing. A nothing that is not laziness. A nothing that is not sloth. A nothing where You reveal to me that You're everything and You're in it all. I need to stop listening to the world. The world isn't saying anything. When I'm listening to nothing You can be there. You're there in the nothing. Not even a whisper of the wind, and You're there.
You're the everything that allows the nothing to be something. And I think that's enough for now.