When you see young children living and working their beautiful miracles, do you smile and say, They are something at that age, or, We are something at that age? They, or we — the difference, I think, is a great one, and tells much about you. The same might be asked of how you view those who are far ahead of you in years. Because the very young and the […]
When a child draws a face like this, we wonder at his gifts and curses, as if age were something art rehearses, and art what age reverses.
Wondered the child, Is God in the clouds, or are the clouds in God? And God said, That is a question I love. And the child sang low. And the child sang on.
Maybe you really can make something of yourself, as the time-worn advice goes, or threat, or promise, or admonition, depending on who says it or thinks it and under what circumstances, including you and your own. Maybe you really can become something or someone, a person worthy of respect, and on, and on, and on. I don’t know. It all seems rather strange to me. In a way, isn’t it […]
Why does the bird sing? Because it will? Because it must? Because it can? As the child is a poet, the child is a man. And the man goes out on a limb. Why does the man sing? To break, and to bend. To break . . . . . and to bend.
