An excerpt from Zaill’s writing project:
Sometimes in your life it forgets to divide between babbling the brooks and volcanos in your mind. Before they called on me and already I came, why, somehow feeling so lacking even in my shameful tardy trending pain. Through these steps I take on fell dawn dreary like roads, walking in my sleepy time, yet the beauty in we starry eyes always and never seemed in failing to let show. As I blink on this bleak providential reality, and beginning to see what thoughts I think I used to be, oh my people how youth caught up to me. In the dreams that keep happening, on the path, that seeks to tred, leaving behind a memorandum and a few tattered strings of redish brown thread. On the hands tied by mine anxiety, fleeting glimpses of our power estranging, dangle the hopes of such a fickle generation. Have bravery. And falling down we forget our temptation in bursts of heartless god budding emotion, feeling only the simple shallowness in the depths of our abandoned grace. Tell me your faith story love of my fateful encountering, and take me for all I can be. My breathtaking.