>Will it be heard? I lean on a ring of a tree that has fallen. I wasn’t there to hear it fall but here it is holding me up in moments of decision. So the noise it made is in my imagination. So What.?
Last night a friend was telling me a story about a black forest and a battle that ensued there. It was so dark the warriors were getting lost and confused. I often feel like I have wandered into the Black Forrest or Sherwood Forrest or Forrest Gump. Either I am bumping into enemies and shaking their hand or I am slitting throats of comrades. Then there are moments where I sit on a bench eating a box of chocolates oblivious to any positive or negative impact on those near by. So again I lean on the egotistical frame with my arms crossed.
Behold, I stand in the doorway and rot.
Yeah, you can laugh. I laugh at myself all the time. I am here to invoke those who struggle with going through doors. Would that make me a door keeper? Well, maybe a little. The pluralism on either side of the door would make some hang underneath the frame in the paralyzation of analyzation. Which has been me quite often, sometimes to the frustration who have no problem walking through doors.
Red pill, blue pill
caff, decaf, half caff
two kids, twelve kids
“We don’t yet see things clearly. We’re squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won’t be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright!” The Message