Something so beautiful could only turn hideous, right? Beauty always was terrible, or so it seems. Writing to heal now, with each new word creating another imprint on top of the one below it, stamping over the madness of yesterday and pressing down hard, squeezing it so tightly it leaks color. Brilliant color, like birds in flight. Blue lake, stretched out there. Thank you, thank you, thank you, I whisper. Even though I don't mean it. Maybe one day I will, I will, and again ... I will.
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1 comment:
Neat metaphor: brilliant color "blood" leaking as you press the bandage of your writing tightly to heal the wounds in your heart.
The visual choice you made is amazing, one feels your commitment to rebirth, renewal, "hope".
Thanks for your gifts of hope, Walt
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