|synaptic disunion|

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

the secret...

They would have never noticed it's potential in 1939. They wouldn't have seen it's magic, or felt it's possibilities. The focus would have been elsewhere, up front, or in the back, but never here.

But the faeries waited. They knew. Each year passed, old tires, scrap metal, through which grew tall grasses and weeds unremarkable. They kept their magic at bay, held it in the soil and the walls, until someone saw it and gave it release.

Some people say the universe has secrets. Some people believe that the universe will give you what you want. I believe this also, but somehow I don't think it's quite the same as those who dream of gold. The universe, and nature, keeps things hidden, until you find a way to work its release, then you see all it has to offer. It's wealth of another kind.

A child runs through it without knowing what came before. A child sees the magic better than those of us who have closed it up. Let the child run free, see it like a baby, see it like you've never seen it before, and run through it, no shoes, and free.

: toadman : at Tuesday, July 17, 2007 |