forever — is composed of nows —

I've just listened to artists describe what they have created out of inspiration from Emily Dickinson's poetry. I think of her, writing in solitude and isolation, and what this meant to, and for, her. I think of what we try to say, with difficulty, but are still compelled to say. Just as life goes on birthing life, we've no idea how this works, really, but it does, and it must.

Words pencil-written
to the very edge
of an envelope 

veins in a leaf
pointing to the bright
rim at leaf’s edge —

that green life
not ending but giving
its own light to the air 

Title is from Dickinson's poem.