They'll Write Songs about You

Words are always enough and sometimes, they come with images. We think we know what should be said, but at least for me, what's formed in my head is only a sketch of what comes out on paper. The words, the images, they are more than me. The idea of rendering, at times with words that ascribe divinity or the diviner's touch, it was not mine originally. I wanted to read only, could read for hours at a time. I could disappear into a book, be in the voice of first or third person and stay there. I could live in the action and heroism of comics, the strength of character sketched in a hero or heroine's sense of honor and integrity. And yet, I always felt like I had more of an active role…

It has struck me, more than a few times, that words convey so much more than we pretend they do. They trace like a road carved into and out of stone, as if someone used a sharp plough and cut through all the lies we think would cover up the truth. As if putting dirt on people's character and identity, covering history with fantasy would change generations forever. Isn't it funny that stories we hold up as 'ideal,' also condemn the writers thereof? Isn't it strange that many have questioned to the extent they would rather die a "fool's death" than live as a coward in this world? But what is stranger is truth doesn't never goes down easily. That the tomorrow we promised and prophesied, lives in the very blood in our veins.

Beauty is found '
here,' she shines whether you accept her or not. She doesn't await approval or acclaim; she simply shines in her own glory. And when it is all said and done, she will declare herself, supreme.
Comments