I’m not finding anything I want to write about so I’ll write about that. And blank.
I have goals that I’m afraid to reach toward. My current situation allows me to continue hiding from myself and those goals. And blank.
I have some very supportive people and resources and life is getting better, but I am not yet willing to hear reality. Yet my reality is what I make of it, taking into account the universal boo-boos that are planned for me.
I found this photo and it looks to be an old aqueduct/bridge thing that seems to parallel my issues. The old is crumbling and being washed away. But since I cannot see the new I run scared, and running is too familiar… it doesn’t work. And blank.
“And blank” is the emptiness that sits at the end of a sentence where another sentence might have joined had I had another thought to add. Another sentence would deliver me, possibly, to a paragraph? That’s the way compositions used to work but this is blogging; an informal rendering of heart and mine to cyber page.
I long to find the indwelling stirring that I feel and use to pen my pages; it’s not gone… it just seems to be on a break. Maybe I’m forcing issues I’m not ready for. Maybe I need some rest. I won’t know until I get ‘there’: End and blank.
whatever that's a picture of, it's gorgeous. it looks as if it's quiet there. the quiet can be so beautiful sometimes.
ReplyDeletewhen i was younger and played music, i felt that i always had to PURGE myself of things.
now? years (literally!) go by with no songs.
when i started the blog i felt that way too. so i take breaks to avoid writing myself into a corner.
thanks for your compliments on my poetry. i hadn't written any in years and suddenly out popped those four today. and it may be years before i write anymore.
lover of jazz...
Dear Anonymous...
ReplyDeleteyour true fans will wait the four years or so for such gifted and heart-rendering sentiments. The photo was taken in Wales by a cousin. Best regards, dc.