"as if the grain
Remembered what the mallet tapped to know." (Seamus Henaey)
Sometimes I feel like this with blank paper. It feels as if it knows what it holds, and like a chisel, fingers work to unfold it, or to gently lay out what it has been holding in its fists for eternity thus far. Gently, unfolding, it remembers word by word, phrase by phrase, what it eventually holds and what it has been holding forever. Like a veil lifting from the blank page to reveal the words on the page. As if, the whole pursuit of hide and seek was this, a slow, gradual, word by word unveiling of the blank page.