The days melt into one another, blending together.
Yet each stretches out far too long, never seems to end.
Nowhere near enough time to get everything done.
Yet too much time to think, too much time to wonder.
Everything seems to happen all at once.
Yet the times of nothing reach out into infinity.
Nothing, no one seems to be able to elicit a smile.
Yet one waggle, one nudge, can make everything alright.
4 comments:
Hope
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
E. Dickinson
This is one reason why I can look up and see a triptych of 3 Medieval birds right above my monitor. Cheers, 'VJ'
Check your email, I just sent you a picture of myself in a thong.
(Now if that didn't make you laugh - boy I don't know what to do)
Jeremy in a thong would make me laugh too! No offense Jeremy!
Thanks everyone... and Jeremy in particular, as the promise... er... threat of you in a thong definitely had me laughing!
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