Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Closet, near the bottom.

Saw it coming. Wow, even before that, heard it coming. Mavis on eTown, then at Waterfront Park. A groundswell of good vibrations. A world ready for redemption became the pipe organ's cathedral. A formidable headwind to provide the tension for a spectacular drama to unfold. Systems seaming to fail, to be rescued by a resilience hidden from the everyday light. The storms, their timing unpredictable, their occurrence certain. Dark, blustery, cold like the day when the flame flickered into seeming oblivion. More than just one. Actually many ...

Yes, it means something to me. I write it because it is the spring to an imagination I am particularly close to. Buds on the tree, a symphony of chirps when the day is new. A welcome counterpoint to the fragile truth of the effectively finite.

What does it mean that reading that scribble has such a profound effect? I would like to believe it is because all was/is Ok that the creaking ship soars, its swan song celebrates into the future untold. Turning inward for the inspiration to escape the isolated rock in the churning rapids. It too is part of story (yes I did mean that).

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