How would you describe yourself to someone who can’t see you?
If I were to describe myself to someone who can’t see me, I wonder whether they’d see the vision — or hear it in my voice — if I’d instead describe people with whom I’ve kept company, then admit my shame over not having been even remotely careful.
I collect keys..and the like
Cowardly
In the night I create
I skulk nigh
Leave doors unlocked
Then explain
‘Twas not I
I tear mirrors…from concrete
Angrily
In the abstract I create
I demur
Leave laughing
Then I stare
‘Twas once her
Do you, as I, daily perform an unending juggling act with the hours, grasping at fleeting minutes, feeling, by sundown, famished for time?
Who of us doesn’t wish to artfully turn the wretched clock into origami art that would sit silent and still on the wall and evidence beauty instead of lack?
Were it possible, I would wave my surely magic arms, and weave into the moments a stop gate, then take eternity to tell you, thank you, you were right, and I love you.
Say something here and now to my writer’s eyes and heart. Tell me something mystical or bizarre about yourself. Share anything that will be cathartic for you, or will blow my mind. Enlighten me.
Post your own most favorite photo or other personal work of art.
Write a short story here, and I’ll collaborate and finish it with you.
Or, finish mine:
“Oh, how entirely good it is to be this aged age, having had all the conversations with all the different girls and women who I have been throughout these years! I know who I am, I know what I want, and I know what I am unwilling to do to achieve it. The beautiful mystery that remains is this: What magic-like means are out there in the world that I may take in order to manifest what I want?”
Nothing here is new
Shine spilled everywhere
My heartpath must choose
Conclusions
LisaRosier.com 