The idea has always been that there is a simple saying of how it is, a direct opening onto being which comes forth in words. Of course this never actually happens, but as you try and miss, or more generally evade the possibility and quiet imperative, then at least your failures will be marked by that at which they fail. The energy largely comes from somewhere else, an urge to display, a dandyism, however reserved and deprecated. But what you always wondered about was how it would be when that energy was gone and all that is left is the simply saying or not, with no one to tell about anything, just the innate and original process, the unceasing moment of birth, and of death.