Open Windows

I start to build myself failsafes, for my failsafes, for the failsafes that fall through. So my fingers dance across the keys when the window opens. It might be generous to say that the window has opened. Perhaps it groaned, as it was wrenched asunder, the timber splitting and the glass cracking.

So I stick my head out and breathe. I utter a silent prayer. I plot and scheme to slowly, somehow rebuild the ways and means that word and song find purchase and meaning. Slowly, to place one stone upon another, until the wall is built.

I’m still drowning in a sea of scraps, notes, ideas, scribblings, fragments and portents. Drowning doesn’t capture it. Perhaps I’m captured by all I’ve captured, and need the next twenty years of my life to bring it all to light. So be it, God willing. It would be time well spent, and a life well lived. A conspiracy of notebooks, musing and eloquent dreaming. Well, I would aspire to eloquence. Don’t we all?