Reverie

All the answers do not lie within. Do not believe them. One can at best frame the dull questions. And may be that is why disappointment sits so close by.

I say this. And I do not believe this.

We are all idiosyncratic. Strange. Waiting to be appreciated, or even loved. To spread wings we imagine we possess.

Inhibition helps. It keeps you at bay, at a removed point of safety. Allowing only slight tipsiness and not the sweeping comfort of delirium.

May be words make life difficult. Without them one would babble and know. Or, not know. Stare or smile. Sit tight or simply go. What respite! The discomfort aroused by a compliment, the predicitibility of abuse.

They often ask you about the wings...Have you found your wings yet? Did you try? Do you really want them to grow?

Pause and think I say. And then pause again. The Wind is picking up. The noise recedes. The crimson face does not even wish to look at the Sun.

Nothing awaits you I know.

Buh Bye!