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Interrogations Of A Life Unreached

Monday, October 17, 2005

A Prayer and a Question

How can I, in this short life and a world of countless untold miracles, ever be satisfied until I have partaken of the nectar from every flower. Can I do so and yet hope to find living life?

I pray, most sincerely, not for peace but for intensity.

Go: celebrate.

5 Comments:

Intensity springs from focus. From the joy of delving into the dizzying depths. It is not to taste the nectar from every flower that you should aspire to, but to find the one flower in whose fire to burn in, to be one with, and to die in.

By Anonymous, at 1:14 AM
And who are you?

By Anonymous, at 1:23 AM
The one who's idea you love...

By Anonymous, at 1:54 AM
I have to correct that - the idea of whom you love.

By Anonymous, at 1:55 AM
And how do you know you are that?
Not to mention your preference to being the idea...

By Anonymous, at 7:48 AM

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Sometimes we need to stand by the side of the road and paint and let people passing by watch. Perhaps we could sing instead, and it would be the same thing. The purpose is to not intrude upon those who'd rather pass by hurriedly and to let the interested ones stand and stare, be indifferent to the indifferent and also to those who aren't.

So here I am, standing beside me, stopped and staring at me singing, or painting, or in more likelihood, lying on the grass with my head upon my arms squinting at the sun.

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Interrogations Of A Life Unreached

Monday, October 17, 2005

A Prayer and a Question

5 Comments:

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