Wednesday, 15 June 2011
I had a secret dream.
I woke up and acted secretly different since. Dysania found me, again.
Why is it always the birds that get so much recognition? Let us dive deep under the water and explore to the coldest and darkest corner. Where light and colour do not share the same room, and oxygen does not exist. Yet in these places, some old and forgotten circumstance means existence is made easy. Then surface and walk into the shallower shores. The light is glittering, bright, fresh. Does it sting your eyes? Shall we blame that on the water instead. The sand sticks to your skin but you only feel the warmth it wraps on to your feet. Nature gives you shoes to walk her paths. Does she want us to win here? The big games are harder here but always seeming to be worth 'something or another'. The theory of actuality is one we all know deep inside ourselves, you have seen it quoted to you by your people on your worst days. We are taking in the advice given, perhaps in one ear and out the other. Lasting impressions never were your strongest point but that does not mean you will be forgotten.
I find myself asking thousands of questions, but never speaking them aloud. I will be in my little world. The quiet one, not quite yet ready for what the world has on offer. Continuously falling. Terror in waking.
I am dying to tell you but they say that once you tell a secret it could not possibly come true.