| |
| I Wonder | 2:28am monday, 12th august |
I wonder, and that wondering
is a net of silver threads cast out
to a sea of dreams, some of these
a thousand times dreamed.
Like a whisper in the wind, some
dreams are... all of them, mayhap,
are misunderstood — at least
a little taken differently than true.
We fisherpeople of ideas: what
little does it take to deceive us,
that we believe we hold a golden
carp, and the scales are hollow?
Or how many times has it been
that some transcendent guppy
we tossed away, the fish's color
was the wrong tint of intrigue?
I know blessed little — less and
less as the years go on. Can it
be perhaps wrong to know
anything at all? I wonder.
|
|
 Laney | 7:26pm wednesday, 14th august |
| I've decided something, dear Stand. What writer writes to not be heard? I hear you. I hear you very well. |
|
|
|
|
