Spigots

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So you begin to tell something, right? Open your mouth, waggle your tongue, words tumble out and in an instant or two, there's an imaginary period that completes a new sentence which no one ever before heard. Including you!

Where'd it come from? That sentence. When you started your tongue going, did you know all the words that were about to stream out? The sentence completed an idea. Where'd that come from? Do we have, like a faucet at the end of a hose that connects a glowing passel of squirming idea soup somewhere in our minds... one end's connected to that place, with its spigot spraying its contents onto our tongues? Hey! Where'd that idea come from? And say, you're walking through a woods on Hilton Head Island and you come upon a hacked tree part that'd been carefully fit across a sharp gulley. And as the light sparkles through a high tree canopy – what does your spigot spray out? And if you're alone, with no ear to hear it...

Do you make a sound? Or is that the entire purpose of a place like this? Quiet reverence? Maybe there are places where the spigot has no function? Places that exist solely as input... So later, somewhere far away, our spigot has something to output?