Inkspots and Paintings
Just thinking out loud.
What do you know about being alive? Of promises and dreams for which you’re to strive?
What would your younger self answer to these?
Too many locks, and not enough keys.
What do you know about being alive?
You could live until you were a hundred and five
But you’ll never see bad, and you’ll never know good:
You’ll be left with a handful of what if and should.
Take caution when lifting the latch to the sky,
Read the Braille in the stars for words to live by,
Look deep in your insides, make love to your shadow
Plant shallow your seed, watch him or her grow.
Take comfort in between the earth and the air,
Take pleasure in failure, love what you learn there.
Embrace the madness, the all and the one:
Then ask yourself this: what’s the end? What’s begun?
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