It wasn’t entirely purposeful, but I’ve been ending the last few pre-posts with the words “We’ll see…”
Today, I gave myself a challenge, a “we’ll see how it works,” one that I quickly and promptly bombed (though with some personally telling and interesting results). Still, it’s a worthy and truthful goal that I’d like to make into a reality, so we’ll have to see what buoyancy the future can bring. I think it’s inside there somewhere, as yet largely undiscovered.
In the meantime, I submit the first failed effort.
I’d like to write something positive today but don’t know those steps well enough to dance in public, don’t see how the words can fit together to build a kite and not a shovel, a cloud and not a puddle, leaving me muddling through levity, stammering past and over the inevitable moment with my shaky airplane gets recast as a broken backhoe, digging shallow holes in which to bury aborted airy thoughts for good and better because if I’d sent my mind high above the hills and lakes that I’ve always tried so hard to love and embrace, I may one day have come crashing down, splashing down, flattening and flooding the ground until every earthbound being was drowned in only inches of water, unable or unwilling to lift their sleeping heads up off the dirt, every tree dying, found now with unsound roots, leaving eagles screaming with bleeding wings, desperately seeking a place of purchase, and I still stand unseeing singing silly verses about flying, foolishly trying to buy hope with pointless pretty paper, to pry love out of the lonely, stingy fingers of my stagnant imagination servicing simple rhymes, fully magnetized against the positive, the buoyant, the joyful all along…at least that’s the truth I’m most afraid to find if I try to shed this easy cynic’s cloak and simply free myself to float.
Hey, how you gonna pick up the pieces?