Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Within a realm of orange sky and blue pen your case is collectively stated daily and I, with my myriad blocks scary as any blank page have nothing worthwhile to say. Or do I? So I go on some quest, some mission to find an opening statement. A daily goal to write something, anything. To post or not to post is the question of the moment. And aye; therein lies the rub of a lifetime, a self-erasure of sorts. What a conglomerate of self-defeat this would be... Or would it?

1 comment:

Stranger Ken said...

"Sometimes nothing's a pretty cool hand." Cool Hand Luke.

Erasure would be seriously bad news, wouldn't it? I remember you telling me that when I didn't even know you read my poems!