Loving the snow covered streets I watch them disappear under soft raindrops that wish to purify the sidewalks to clarity. Listening for another carol, I wait for the one that reminds me of reminiscent days of tree putting and light hanging. Clearly not over and 'tis'ing the season, I try to restrain my intentions to pure love and caring. But there is a buzz of bah humbug that clouds this judgment. Waiting for flowers carefully picked to arrive anywhere that I am, I closely follow my life feelings and longings of doubt. In myself mostly, I find what I cannot see in others and the same them to me. Clearly embracing the thought of perfection and what it can imperfectly be, I allow my mind to grasp random feelings of surprise and contemplation. I sit. Wandering with my mind within each click and tap of the keys I listen for something that can speak to me....hello? The space bar is silent yet, it says so much, for it too, makes a sound. One that separates and gives the mind ease, one that can be replaced with something more, something that can make a word make meaning. The history of love is herstory too. We just tell it, write it, relate it, and share it so differently, that we must experience it ourselves out of loss of meaning...I sit...I sit still.
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Bah...Humbuggin'
Wednesday, December 24, 2008Posted by Esoteric Prose at 12/24/2008 12:45:00 PM
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