Waiting

Everything to write, of course. And indeed, I write it, or I begin to write, but then, just as quickly, I delete what I’ve written, the cursor goes backwards over the words and there is nothing again. Why this need to write, and the need to erase? There is a great deal to write. Much to report, but still, I don’t want to report anything, to say anything, but rather to write and then delete what I have written, to write and then to sacrifice writing until it is no more, until the Post Introduction is empty again, and there is waiting again. What is being waited for? What is being sought? What is to be lost, and what found?