Some of our made-up things get "finished": framed in neat packages that allow us to hand them off to others. Other artistic ideas are flung off in sparkling fragments, like oddly-shaped bits of sea-glass waiting to be found.
Here's one I found today, buried in a neglected corner of my 'documents' folder:
I’d like to live alone
To do the things I like
___ unknown
Eat breakfast food at night
I’d like to live alone
To be all by myself
A solitary gnome
A cheerful woodland elf
Actually, today I'm very happy living with others. And yet I like this unfinished little poem.
I don't believe that anything else needs to be "done" with it. It doesn't need to be developed or turned into a larger work. In time (perhaps soon) the file will be deleted.
In the meantime, perhaps for only a short time and while I am completely alone, I can pick up a fragment and appreciate it.
1 comment:
I'd have to agree. I am constantly writing little things here and there and then one day I will just be stuck and start clicking around my folders and find something that I've written a while ago and then try and work with it -- sometimes it doesn't work out - but other times it does. It's very true that if you work on something and then leave it but then come back in a different mind set different space - you bring a different feeling.
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