Friday, September 4, 2009
a life more ordinary
Life in backward motion. Do I wish art didn’t call to me? That the strings of the universe didn’t pluck at my heart. That life was an easy juxtaposition of events never merging never ending never meaning more than the surface.
Or do I enjoy the rapture of creation. The drive. The pulse of beauty that makes ice run through. The quiver with every note is sung, The gasp at movement. Do I wish to turn this off and live a life more ordinary?