Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
Angry or sad this poet? I think it was the coming of spring, when realized that he could be more than he was. Something in him made him question himself.
I am there. Wondering about like a bumble on Rudolph. Looking for direction, shining a light. Making the conflict make me grow. Can I jump ahead, will I bounce?
I can totally equate myself to a cartoon, drawn or created, aren't we anyway? Who's in charge of the next frame...or does it just happen. I'm older, I can feel it, in my mind and my body. My soul is young, my spirit grows. I need to make them meet. Be a character, live in those shoes for the day, switch your thinking. Have fun with it.Watch out for elves that want to be dentists.
Rudolph: But you fell off the edge of the cliff.
Yukon Cornelius: Didn't I ever tell you about Bumbles? Bumbles bounce.
No comments:
Post a Comment