When I was small and a child I felt extraordinary and insufficient, defective somehow. Missing something while having too much. Too much musing and feeling. That I suffered fear and sensitivity.
Being human is difficult. When we lose someone we love we're confronted with the knowledge of how small we are. How wondrous and immense the sky continues to be.
Always visions of a rhythmic wild inky mass terrifies me as I sense my head succumbing beneath the blackened night. I imagine the abysmal bottom.
I'm breathing beneath the sea.
Creating sounds whales hear and speak.
----28 april 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment