Remember when I flew over the mountains a few weeks ago? Fossils were not the only things I saw.
I also saw, amid the lower mountains, a rocky caldron filled with clouds as white as marshmallow fluff. The clouds rippled, literally, against the edges of the mountain. Silken whispers.
It occured to me then that I would not find truth in the wind but in that place where yielding meets resistance and wins, hands down, every time. Where giving up actually means getting. I think, today at least, that is where the truth lies. And you can't hear it or see it or even receive it, you can just brush up against it, and hope it leaves a mark.
6 comments:
La vérité d'aujourd'hui, n'est pas la vérité d'hier et n'est pas celle de demain. Elle est aussi variable que les couleurs du temps, aussi incertaine que l'avenir.
Anon - C'est bien dommage tout ça.
Ok, comments in French aren't fair. You know how lame Bablefish is.
I love marshmallow fluff. And you.
I hope your find your truth. I agree with Lorriane.
Nicole - I think that is beautiful
Lorraine - I'll translate: anon said: Today's truth is not yesterday's or tomorrow's. It is as changing as the colors of time and as uncertain as the future.
I said: Well that sucks.
I love marshmallow fluff too! And you too.
Beth - Me too.
Tom - Hi Tom - sometimes it is.
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