Being Alive Is A Common

I Think The Job Of Writing And Literature Is To Encourage Each One Of Us To Believe That We're Living In A Story.

I Still Have Everything You Gave Me It Is Dusty On The Edges. It Is Slightly Rotten. I Guard It Without Thinking. I Focus On It Once A Year When I Shake It Out In The Wind. I Do Not Ache. I Would Not Trade.

The Person You Have Known A Long Tme Is Embedded In You Like A Jewel. The Person You Have Just Met Casts Out A Few Glistening Beams & You Are Fascinated To See More Of Them. How Many More Are There? With Someone You've Barely Met The Curiosity Is Intoxicating.

Maybe We Try Too Hard To Be Remembered, Waking To The Glowing Yellow Disc In Ignorance, Swearing That Today Will Be The Day, Today We Will Make Something Of Our Lives. What If We Are So Busy Searching For Worth That We Miss The Sapphire Sky And Cackling Blackbird. What Else Is Missing? Maybe Our Steps Are Too Straight And Our Paths Too Narrow And Not Overlapping. Maybe When They Overlap Someone In Another Country Lights A Candle, A Couple Resolves Their Argument, A Young Man Puts Down His Silver Gun And Walks Away.

What Did Exclusivity Ever Have To Offer But A Distorted, Unrealistic View Of The World? People Who Stuck Only To Their Own Kind Were Scared People.