It reveals itself slowly.

In the begininng - there's nothing. A pond. Some rising mist. The distant rays of morning. Nothing worthy of seeing. Nothing worthy of being seen by either me or my camera's lens.

Perhaps - if only for a moment - I find myself wondering what it is I'm doing...why it is I'm returning again and again. To this same place. To this same time. To this- that has yet to open itself up before me.

And then - the scene unfolds. At first - only the barest of bones. A few lines on a blank canvas awaiting color. Some notes on a page hoping for music to fill it. A blinking cursor expecting for words to justify its presence.

A pool of light penetrating thru the dark clouds. A few random geese. Some morning magic.

Moments ago - it was empty. Now - in this moment - it was overfull.

Returning again and again. Always looking and seeing for the first time. The prize is definitely right there - in that discipline and process.