After a brief holiday, I return!
Moving on to bigger or brighter, slightly or unsightly things.
A story that gives sense
(an anonymous tale I was told by a friend)
A potentate asks his wise men to compile all the knowledge in the world in one place for his son to learn. The wise men go away for a year and come back with 12 volumes. “Too long, make it shorter,” says the potentate. The wise men go away for another year and return with a single volume and once again the potentate says “too long, make it shorter.” They leave for yet another year and return with a single sheaf of paper. The potentate reads it. It has only one line that says:
“This too shall pass”
—————
– How can you know so surely who you are? – she quietly whispered. Then he took her hand and placed it on his chest and said, — Because this is real, and this, now, is where I am. – She never did understand that confidence. That staunch belief in tangible moments. Everything seemed to crunch in her mouth like smoke.
Coffee bones and glasses thin. Dancing slow and waking dim.
So many unfinished projects. Half eaten ideas slowly smelling faintly of mothballs.
Picker upper pucker up.
This is how we pick us up.
Tiny strings and shiny things.
Golden rings we thoughtlessly sing.
I think I found a better world,
In between the threads,
That held together this and that,
Just beneath our beds.
—————
sudokita
