0167 Just Beyond The Angel's Reach

I don't know much about what I'm writing except that I'm writing; I don't know much about what I've written either, except what I read; I don't know much about what I'm going to write except what I hope; but I do know a little about where I'm writing: it's there, in those paintings of The Annunciation, between where the angel's outstretched hand with lily, and sometimes open, sometimes closed, but silent mouth and Mary's crossed, clasped hands, her body curved in obedience and humility; eyes downcast; so be it unto her; there just beyond the angel's reach, just in front of mankind's hope, where nothing and everything is happening, and your eye runs out to the distant horizon only to focus on infinity; that's where I'm waiting. that's where I'm writing.