|
Dafremen
|
Pardon me my loves for my self-indulgent arrogance. Know the truth of the ruse and let this be satisfactory, for I am but what you call me to be. Could you be any more dear to me? Could the clay be any more enamored of the potter? Could the canvas find a greater calling than in the broad, slashing or delicate strokes of the painter? All of your wiles and ways bring comfortable rythmn to my life and thus complete me. Fragile and stoic you are and my heart beats to the brim for your being. Please don't think me foolish, or better yet, do. Laugh at me and with me. Laugh for me and I will whirl in the breath of your laughter. Whatever you do, don't disregard me, for your attentions, as your actions, are the breath of life to me. You are the wind on my face and the song in my soul. You are the muse that leaps from my eyes to my mind to my heart to the page. Wherever I find you, your faces, voices and words set my imagination soaring to the tune of your humanity, making me but a mirror for your dance. I am nothing but a silly puppet on the strings of your lives, animated by your sadness and serenity, by the loneliness of your existence, by your ecstacies and agonies...by love for you all.
|
030403
|
