Translate

Wednesday, January 31, 2007

The message

About half an hour ago I was somewhere else, then like a flat pebble skipping across a pond, rock meets water, each time I recover, a bit wet, but glad that I have touched the surface of depths that I know are more than my mere skimming the surface will allow me to enter, and I wonder, does the water think me cold and hard, do I disturb its tranquil surface, or does it welcome my unexpected, and perhaps unrefined, visit? Of course we may never know, for words are our only lasting memory of our brief encounter, and unless we utter words, utter thoughts, utter our souls, then the memory will be but concentric circles upon the surface while the depths remain untouched.

Shalom,
Bro. Bartleby

1 comment:

Lucy said...

(O) (- I understsnd this is a pebble...)