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. When I wrote this, I was waiting in a church for confession.

2. Should be chaff.

3. Even though I’m not supposed to be paying attention to these kinds of details while freewriting, in practice, when I have a very specific idea, I tend to go back very briefly and make small corrections in cases where the idea coming out of my head would otherwise be obscured.

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