From Diane Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale

People disappear when they die. Their voices, their laughter, the warmth of their breath. Their flesh. Eventually their bones. All living mempry of them ceases. This is both dreadful and natural. Yet for some there is an exception to this annihilation. For in the books they write they continut to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humour, their tone of voice, their moods. Through the written word they can anger you or make you happy. They can comfort you. They can perplex you. They can alter you. All this, even though they are dead. Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is, by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic.

--Diane Setterfield



Friday, August 24, 2007

Oh Geeze ANOTHER post?! Do you not have a life???

Not actually. James and the boys are doing a sleepover... but only until 9 PM. Then they pack up the sleeping bags and go home.. how dumb is that?

ANYways the purpose is I grabbed this Poem from Lindsey Law's Facebook. I pretty much heart it.

Thank you Becca :) Its my favorite:

"Being Human" - Naimn

I wonder if the sun debates dawn
Some mornings
Not wanting to rise
Out of bed
From under the down-feather horizon
If the sky grows tired
Of being everywhere at once
Adapting to the mood swings
Of the weather
If clouds drift off
Trying to hold themselves together
Make deals with gravity
To loiter a little longer
I wonder if the rain is scared of falling
If it has trouble letting go
If snowflakes get sick
Of being perfect all the time
Each one trying to be one-of-a-kind
I wonder if stars wish
Upon themselves before they die
If they need to teach there young
How to shine
I wonder if shadows long
To once feel the sun
If they get lost in the shuffle
Not knowing where they're from
I wonder if sunrise and sunset
Respect each other
Even though they've never met
If volcanos get stressed
If storms have regrets
If compost believes in life after death
I wonder if breath
Ever thinks about suicide
If the wind just wants to sit
Still sometimes
And watch the world pass by
If smoke was born knowing how to rise
If rainbows get shy backstage
Not sure if their colors match right
I wonder if lightening sets an alarm clock
To know when to crack
If rivers ever stop
And think of turning back
If streams meet the wrong sea
And their whole life runs off track
I wonder if the snow wants to be black
If the soil thinks she's too dark
If butterflies want to cover up
Their marks
If rocks are self conscious of their weight
If mountains are insecure
Of their strength
I wonder if waves get discouraged
Crawling up the sand
Only to be pulled back again
To where they began
I wonder if land feels stepped upon
If sand feels insignificant
If trees need to question their lovers
To know where they stand
If branches waiver at the cross roads
Unsure of which way to grow
If the leaves understand
They're replaceable
And still dance when the wind blows
I wonder where the moon goes
When she is hiding
I want to find her there
And watch the ocean
Spin from a distance
Listen to her
Stir in her sleep
Effort give way to
Existence

1 comment:

Ruth said...

That was so beautiful. THank you for sharing that.