The stories arrive from horizons well beyond the narrow margins given to our behold. Skies stream in thin blue skins to skim over all we would give up in surrender and prayer. Some chapters are much like others and only the retelling sets them apart. A cast shadow becomes a character we watch and follow scene by scene through perilous turns in a serial that feels the same, day after day.
If it comes in grey, we think sorrows gather to attend a dark mass.If it suddens to black, we feel the burning tears of the night as our own.If it runs through red, we know somewhere smoke is having its way.If it dawns as gold, then we light a wick of hope on the sill of the day.Every new hue comes rich with meaning as we apply what lies withinto every temporal thing that passes too briefly to cherish without.
Innocent clouds lose their naiveté to structure and the deeper whimsof ominous weather. What whispers today may scream silence tomorrow.Every thing we are plays out above us as it always has. Oracles appearand retreat, their prophesies fraught with uncertainty, each revelation moot with flux. If being human were not enough to lend sky to, thenthis would matter only to the most stranded and wingless among us.
So we read the stories as they come. This one spells your name backward in the western sky. This one corrects a minor inconsistency in a lie retold too often to be your life for much longer. This one throws out the truenature of what you are for all the world to wander beneath without evernoticing. Only you know the lasting plots that make the stories what theyare, what they’ve always been, and what they will, in brevity, become.
wisdom is worth all we lose to attain it. ~aucassin verdé
i wonder if the artist ever lives his life-—he is so busy recreating it. only as i write do i realize myself. i don't know what that does to life. ~anne sexton
you must acquire the trick of ignoring those who do not like you. in my experience, those who do not like you fall into two categories: the stupid and the envious. the stupid will like you in five years time. the envious, never.~john wilmot, 2nd earl of rochester
art arises when the secret vision of the artist and the manifestation of nature agree to find new shapes. ~kahlil gibran
creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. art is knowing which ones to keep. ~scott adams
those who don't know how to weep with their whole heart, don't know how to laugh either. ~golda meir
i said to my soul, be still,
and wait without hope,
for hope would be hope
for the wrong thing.
wait without love,
for love would be love
of the wrong thing.
there is yet faith;
but the faith and the love
and the hope are all
in the waiting.
wait without thought,
for you are not ready for thought.
so the darkness shall be the light,
and the stillness the dancing.