"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Saturday, May 19, 2012


See how she knows her own words?
They mean something to her. They mean
that when these gates close in her face
and the people who gave her life
cast her bags out beside her, cheap with dust,
that she will not be alone; not really.
She'll have the others, the ones who
know better than to be afraid of the way
someone else is made. And when the
undecided reach out with, "To each
their own," her words will mean more
than theirs. She knows she isn't better
than them, and she knows that acceptance
is a hard thing to come by, and she's
seen the true depth of human hatred.
And yet, she loves. As hard as she can.

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
The Tallest Man On Earth, The Dreamer

No comments:

Post a Comment