Dear <. insert name here>,
I pray for understanding. For at each juncture of my life, every little turn and every little fork I find myself wanting what I cannot have. To be someone whom I’m not, to be greater than this body, this ability and the very limited depth of thought which is a peanut of a mind.
I ask for appreciation. For my fellow mankind and the world surrounding us. In His infinite wisdom, He allowed us the gift of art. Art in itself serves no function but itself. Art in itself is a self-proclaimed form of vanity, tragedy and the felicity of the fickle fascination of the fragile human zeitgeist.
My contemplation spirals out of control at the back of my mind as the paradox of an elegant complication unravels. Woe it is to I for I cannot grasp the understanding of the challenges ahead, for the image on a wall, or the seemingly random tones and clueless hues. All to comprehend, decipher and to unravel this object the creator has created.
It hurts when what is meant to be alive seems like a flat white wall. Listless as a dying weed and unattainable like the crème of life.
For me, it’s back to the world of reality… I long for those flights of fancy, to a world beyond this peanut head.
KC
I pray for understanding. For at each juncture of my life, every little turn and every little fork I find myself wanting what I cannot have. To be someone whom I’m not, to be greater than this body, this ability and the very limited depth of thought which is a peanut of a mind.
I ask for appreciation. For my fellow mankind and the world surrounding us. In His infinite wisdom, He allowed us the gift of art. Art in itself serves no function but itself. Art in itself is a self-proclaimed form of vanity, tragedy and the felicity of the fickle fascination of the fragile human zeitgeist.
My contemplation spirals out of control at the back of my mind as the paradox of an elegant complication unravels. Woe it is to I for I cannot grasp the understanding of the challenges ahead, for the image on a wall, or the seemingly random tones and clueless hues. All to comprehend, decipher and to unravel this object the creator has created.
It hurts when what is meant to be alive seems like a flat white wall. Listless as a dying weed and unattainable like the crème of life.
For me, it’s back to the world of reality… I long for those flights of fancy, to a world beyond this peanut head.
KC
Comments
ditto.