Friday Freewrite
What’s Friday Freewrite? Find out here.
Climbing. Searching. Always seeking, never reaching. I lift my eyes, wretched creature that I am1, shielding my vision lest my eyes be blinded by the searing fire of distant perfection.
I’m nothing but chaffe2. I’m nothing but ore; gold riddles my innards, but only sparsely.
Yet, let me be smelted. Let me burn in your fire, so that I may be pure, so that what is gold is3 within me may sparkle and shine with the radiance I have longed so much to see.
Footnotes
1. At the time I wrote this, I was waiting inside a church to go to confession.
2. Should be spelled chaff.
3. Even though I’m not supposed to pay attention to structure while I’m freewriting, when I have a very concrete idea in my head that I want to flesh out, I do usually briefly backtrack to make tiny corrections that would otherwise obscure the meaning of what’s trying to come out of my head.
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