Sundry Sunday Thought

There are no signs pointing out happiness on this road. This road is made up as I go along. It's not here, not there. I've tried to find it in a map book; they're still scrambling to update their latest edition, or so they say. It's a gravel road. The pebbles crunch beneath my feet. The sun beats down unrelentingly but the way ahead is unlit. There's a speed limit but there's no one crouched in the bushes monitoring it. I'm a little behind on it. Okay, I'm a lot behind on the speed limit. But no one's watching. It's a gravel road straddling the Tropic of Nowherecorn and it's desolate except for the idea of it.

Go from me, please.

Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
Henceforth in thy shadow. Nevermore
Alone upon the threshold of my door
Of individual life, I shall command
The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand
Serenely in the sunshine as before,
Without the sense of that which I forbore--
Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land
Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine
With pulses that beat double. What I do
And what I dream include thee, as the wine
Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue
God for myself, He hears that name of thine,
And sees within my eyes the tears of two.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

'Art comes to you proposing frankly to give nothing but the highest quality to your moments as they pass.' Walter Pater

Squirming away from

An orchestrated chaos

I protest

The timing's not right.

Perhaps, some day,

But not now.

But what difference will time make,

When the truth is,

Ability and ambition only rarely match up.