Inevitably, doubt will visit. Honest eyes will see it; steady hands will keep moving. Rilke’s "Letters to a Young Poet" (1903) counsels us to "live the questions now," trusting that patient living ripens answers in their season. Progress, then, is less a triumph than a conversation—with the work, the world, and oneself. Some days the line wavers; others, it catches the curve exactly. Let grace be the room between them. If you keep tracing, your dream clarifies—not by force, but by fidelity. And when it finally stands in sharper relief, you will recognize it not only by its shape but by the integrity with which it was drawn. [...]
