With her velvet hair and violet eyes she scans the room like a beacon from a lighthouse piercing the blackness. Is the signal for wayward sailors meant for a lost love? She can't place her finger on exactly what she's searching for, but only acknowledges that something, someone is strangely out of place as a missing puzzle piece that would complete the so longed for image.
Do you find yourself sometimes fantasizing about being a character in a story? Where the end is destined and there is always a middle and a beginning. How simple our lives would translate and operate if we had our very own authors prethinking and penning our every word and deed.
There are times I've wished to have never began a story or subplot, choosing to skip a chapter. Of course, you never know you should of omitted that part of the story until after you've read it, well, and then...it's too late.
Because it's there...already engraved onto your memory, never to be forgotten. What then? You can't forget it so you must find a way to live with it. You also can not erase or change the past. There isn't a device which freely allows you to travel to a previous time in history.
I adore people who embrace tragedy with open arms instead of wallowing in the toxic waste of self pity. Strength and courage of mind and heart bottled into a course of action that flows freely like a river, just like the oil that flows freely beneath the life spring of waters in the Gulf of Mexico. I'm not quite sure where my course of action will take me, but be certain...my river will flow and you will soon know.
2 comments:
Good Lord, it sounds as if you are issuing a FLOOD WARNING. Do I need to batten my hatches and make sure my dikes are secure?
My Dear Mr. Durango, you are quite safe, but as for BP? I think not
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