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.
Michael Shepherd
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/0167-just-beyond-the-angel-s-reach/
