Here Dad, sleep some on this.

January 9, 2013 § 1 Comment

He comes ambling over and says “Sir, I love how your whistlin’ sounds.” – Alabama Acres -Kevin Devine



Quills (Photo credit: Howlsthunder)



Blank pages. Once again. The endless, blank, clueless loss. It has potential, limitless potential. Potential to change the world. To bring peace. To stir emotion. If the pen is mightier than the sword then the blank page is it’s battlefield. A little less messier than hacked off limbs and laying dying and dead, but no less desperate. No less intense. Spilled ink lies on a page like blood on a battlefield. Just as spilled blood shows the loss of the potential in a life, spilled ink shows potential of lost words. Often a life carries with it more than words, in fact, almost all the time. However, on a rare occasion, some words are worth more than a single life. If those words can change the world, if those words can force good from bad, and save the lives of others. There’s potential in you. You can change the world. And you don’t have to do it with swords.  

I breath it in cold and it comes out warm. It comes out thick and twists in the night air like smoke. I watch it twist and fade and try and thick of a metaphor worthy of the occasion. Nothing came to mind. It’s crisp and it’s cold. It’s one of those night skies that you only get in the sticks. Away from the air pollution. Away from the lights. To look at the stars from here is as if to look down at a city in the night time from a plane. Like string lights scattered across a black canvas. It makes me think. Think of the way we change. The way we judge our actions retrospectively. The truth is, it’s not what you know, it’s what you were thinking at the time.  The way we think we have all of this worked out. All buttoned down. The gradual crawl to new information. The things I’ve learnt in the last year, the last two. I’m years ahead of me. Like my whole life is just a game. A very slow, vain and self indulgent game. 

These mistakes are mine. I’ve said it before but I think it’s worth repeating. God knows, it goes round and round inside my head like lost cars on roundabouts, like seats on a ferris wheel. Your mistakes are yours. Your never a victim. Wear them. Own them. They are yours. Learn from them. Learn from them. Learn from them. Because if you don’t, then there was no point in making them. Your just going to have to keep doing it. And keep making mistakes until you it right. 


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