Observations On A Rainy Day
Observations on a rainy day
The morning songbirds have been fleetingly chased away by rain and a stormy wind. The air is decidedly cooler as the songbirds peak back out and reluctantly make their song ring out again. They can’t deny their nature. A single tree frog joins them, a rhythmic staccato underlining the woodwind-like melody. Chimes awakened by the breeze ring in counterpoint. My mind seeks distraction, decrying wordsmithing as counterproductive to purpose and correctness. The Critic opposes The Muse. She tires of fighting. She turns and ignores his barbs and jabs. He grins with satisfaction.
Do I get a say in this?
Critic begone! Muse, come and play. Dance with me! Make my day ring with music and color. Ease my socially distanced burden. Brighten our locked-down quarantine with rays of hope and joy.
Will changes to my approach signal a new beginning?
Perhaps change in itself is always a new beginning. Jumping from discovery to adventure to dialogue and discourse to explanations of mind and spirit. And back again.
Where does the adventure lead to?
To reunions and celebrations and excitations of the soul. Without an adventure, the hero would slumber, and we would lose him again to fantasy and nightmare. Forever wandering the hell, that is his mind. So step UP! Set sail! It’s a pirate’s life for me.
Post Information
 Post Date |  Author |  Comments | Originally Penned |
|---|---|---|---|
| April 10, 2023 | frankie | 0 Comments | April 24, 2020 |