Ideas they once were a plenty upon the tree of life, yet now as in winter they have dried and withered from the branch. Now fallen, hurried away by the stark winter winds never to be seen again…
…this is the story retold time and time again in my mind. Some seed sprouts and takes root. Lest I tend to it quickly, nurturing, it succumbs to the detritus of everyday life and once buried it becomes stifled and its muffled cries to be heard go unnoticed. Perhaps one day I will stumble upon it again. Hopefully then it will flourish rapidly, again exposed to the sunlight!
I long for the exhilaration of a conversation, posting of some astute individual, or intellectual debate to clean house in my mind.
“Take out the trash!”
Throw back the curtains drawn closed by the numbness of the mundane. Let in that energy, the sunshine, that has been deprived allowing the seeds to flourish and blossom into something beautiful for me to share.
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