this candlelit clutter is a comfort.
01/11/2004 07:14 a.m.
i'm just sitting here, kind of mellowing out. i dont know what's going on in this little head of mine, but it's rather inconsequetial, heh. i've been using my pathetic journal more than my livejournal or deadjournal lately; which is pretty amazing, considering how i never used to update.
the fire is dancing, though it is struggling to keep a breath. instead of burning so brightly as it's intent, the candlefire is drowning in the wax that it melted. i've never seen a more beautiful suicide. i am strangely at peace at the moment; i've had a good night. i'm feeling slightly spiritual at the moment. for the first time in a long time, i feel like my words may have made a difference to someone. subtly, but nonetheless a difference.
the candle is making a comeback, perhaps i should not extinguish all hope for it.
i've come to the conclusion that there are two main types of poets: those who look inward and express it outwardly, and those who look outwardly, process it internally, and then add hints of the internal process without directly admitting it. i find myself more and more being the latter of those two; i guess that i just believe in the world around me more than i believe in myself. it's an odd sort of comfort that, no matter what i go through, the world is indifferent. and it always will be to what is inflicted upon or gathered from it. the world will always be there, in whatever shape we mold it. and there will always be something new to discover, some object that has never been photographed, some dream that has never been realized by anyone. and it is in this unique nature that i form my own nature.
i am not sure if this makes any particular sense to you, but it does to me. the internal fire is burning because the candle is still burning; and knowing that if it should ever chose to extinguish, there is always the lighter to start it up again.
peace:a
I am currently Peaceful
I am listening to pete yorn- for nancy