My need for creating lies not so much in my love for art, as in the stories it allows us to tell. Sometimes we need the stillness to remind us. I never thought boredom could be of use; how could boredom be necessary? Such a remorselessly empty thing. Yet in the mids of hollow restlessness; all that is, if not forgotten then perhaps over-shone, in the business of living; things start to become clear, to resurface. In the absence of life, something must fill the void. maybe the memory of life, is as important as the living itself. Cause what else is there to remind us, to get back out of our boredom, and start living once again.
With bits of paper I build my home
As through words of beauty I shall wade
Pages fly around my naked feet -
And I spread my thoughts across the floor.
If happiness is only known,
by looking through the din
than surely words like these are born,
that sacred place within.
The air it seems, is filled with voices,
whispering of tales -
those cherished places of the heart,
is carried in their breath.
They cover up the walls it seems,
but to be taken by the wind.
If boredom is a place of rest
to calm the burning mind,
than I shall lay forever more
on that bottom deep and wild
For through the stillness thoughts are born
though from the life I’ve lived
new tales take form to someday soon
Their own page and place might bid
My writings may not be of the fancy, knowingly sort, and they may not make much sense to anyone but me. Truth be told, I hardly know myself what I'm writing at times. But my words are felt as I write them. And I enjoy words as long as they stay true for the person who is writing and or reading them. I’ve lost them many a times before, and I’m sure, as custom has it, it won’t be long until I loose them once again. And so, I intend to cherish these words while it lasts; and so you might yet have to put up with my incoherent musings, as I hope that maybe, in at least some of them, someone else might find some worth too.
And this time, I would like to highlight the help I recieved from a most cherished, wonderful and wise person, to find my way back to them. Who knew that all I needed was a little bit of old fashioned boredom? So mom, thank you for always knowing just what to say, and how to say it. I love you to the moon and back. Always.
- - -
As through words of beauty I shall wade
Pages fly around my naked feet -
And I spread my thoughts across the floor.
by looking through the din
than surely words like these are born,
that sacred place within.
whispering of tales -
those cherished places of the heart,
is carried in their breath.
They cover up the walls it seems,
but to be taken by the wind.
to calm the burning mind,
than I shall lay forever more
on that bottom deep and wild
though from the life I’ve lived
new tales take form to someday soon
Their own page and place might bid
- - -
And this time, I would like to highlight the help I recieved from a most cherished, wonderful and wise person, to find my way back to them. Who knew that all I needed was a little bit of old fashioned boredom? So mom, thank you for always knowing just what to say, and how to say it. I love you to the moon and back. Always.
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