fantasy...

The notes are falling like crystal splinters, each one separate, each sparkling, cutting sweetly... and I, I am dreaming a waterfall of images, a thousand views of you, a myriad of cherished moments. I am dancing hope, I am upheld by the surface tension of my own teardrops... I am drowning in the bittersweetness of my most treasured dreams.

...Time. There will never be time, there will always be time... time has slipped away and has returned and is gone and is not yet come. In the circle of the melody I am wrapping around me, this woven comfort of cold notes, I am twirling, giddily, dizzied and drunk on times that never were... times that will never be. Bring down the curtain on me, let the lights go down, let me turn and turn and turn again as the music wills...

In the darkness, my heartbeats are my only metronome, and the music is no more, no less, than the thread of my existence.

*giggle.*

Church Anecdote:
A preacher was completing a temperance sermon: with great expression he said, "If I had all the beer in the world, I'd take it and throw it into the river."

With even greater emphasis, he said, "And if I had all the wine in the world, I'd take it and throw it into the river."

And then, finally, he said, "And if I had all the whiskey in the world, I'd take it and throw it into the river." He sat down.

The song leader then stood very cautiously and announced with a pleasant smile, "For our closing song, let us sing Hymn #365: 'Shall We Gather At the River.'"

find more stuff like that here.

Confessions of a LiveJournaler...

Sometimes...

I'd be hard-put to explain just what I'm trying to do, when I sit down to this space. Times when I'm boiling over with emotions, and words are the only release I'll find... it's easy, then. Times when I have a clear idea in mind, something that needs to be said or the idea is going to set me aflame... it's not hard, then, either.

But then there are times... like this one... when all I have is a vague impression, a feeling that won't be ignored but refuses to be categorised... and somehow, some way, I have to weave a net of words around it, build a scene and paint the emotions in... with no more than just the ache in my throat and my heart, to steer by.

I'm whispering, when I'd like to shout. I'm stepping lightly, when what I'm burning to do is to dance my way through, and be what I'm trying to express. I'm longing to burn brightly, I'm aching to blaze, to flame high and hotly. I'm talking, when I'd like to vibrate with the feeling, to let myself resonate to the frequency of the experience... because words are all I have. Words are all we're given, to touch each other's minds and hearts across the miles, to spark each other's imaginations and kindle blazes akin to our own.

What good is it, that I feel these things, what difference will it make, if I make myself drunk on the experience and never share it? What purpose have I served, if I discover joy, but never share it with another living soul? What is the point of my having lived, if I die without ever having been even imperfectly understood? ... And for all of that, the only tools provided are words. Inelegant, insufficient, precious, potent words. It's not enough, you see, to capture the emotion. The greater object is to capture the imagination and the spirit of someone outside yourself, and express that emotion. To share the thought is to strengthen the ties that bind us, until they're things that can bear our weight no matter how far we go or how high we climb. And, in the words themselves... if I can master them, make them serve me.... then, in words, there is no limit to what I can do or be or experience. That's why I'm here... what about you?