Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour Then leaf subsides to leaf So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day Nothing gold can stay -robert frost-
Monday, March 15, 2010
- 1:40 pm
these have been days i have not seen (felt) for nights. to the quiet solitude, i propose a toast; but solitude isn't so bad when its shared. the night skies have never been brighter (and not because of signal flares) nor have morning skies been darker, for they mark the end of that joyous sojourn you took through your thoughts.
in being yourself is the realness found; in expression, in action, in your art; for only then are you free. you limit the circumstances when this may be (oh judgmental society!), but when you recognise your shared insanity (or mutual, exclusive sanity. woof) its a kind of freedom as well. there is a return to being; and for that, thanks are duly accorded.
they have been lonely nights and magical walks; tales of leprechauns and people on horses (heah!), with yeu thaire, whats yer prefesshun's and wah kam eh ki ah's; with just a smattering of teh and a miao-ing dinosaur put to paper. im pretty sure we paid our league fees too. canis and ursa, majors and minors; scrappys and scoobys.
there are things you learn on quiet nights; like how to look to the stars for your answers; and how you see so much more when you look away. truly, they must be special for they refuse to look you in the eye; shining proudly down whilst you gaze ruefully back, losing yourself in the brightness of the night until you remember your presence of being and turn back. again, thank you. i have found more stars.
these have been unexpected days. i found the art of my heart in the heart of my art; and i've found myself again these past nights.
i hope you are okay.
fin
Thursday, March 11, 2010
- 7:08 pm
it rained today. for the first time in a long time, the rain fell down. sometimes i wonder where i'd be if i fell as often as the rain but i'll leave those thoughts to the future because they lack relevancy right now. as does everything else. then you start to think, and you tend to wonder about the what am i doing where am i going how am i gonna pull myself through this?'s that you find yourself in; and then they say that the answers to these questions are written in the stars. which is basically not an answer at all because they're not.
they can't have been written in the stars because they were never there. there is only one place these answers can seek refuge from the harshness of reality and that's the darkest place in the world; you'll find them written on the walls of your heart, to course through your veins when you discover them. if you want to.
then again these days are so hot you probably wouldnt be able to think even if you wanted to; so the rain provides blessed reprieve from this constant onslaught we've been subjected to.
i find myself writing aimlessly. there is no point to this. everything is becoming so artificial; the naturalness of the world slowly slipping away.
read the walls
fin
nothing gold can stay
mr lovva lovva
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