My Daily Stream of Consciousness

... but not daily or necessarily true

In response to the Grieg and Beethoven

Published at 6 March 2017 10:25 AM EST in 'General'

I need a thought. Any little thought. Something to say. Something to feel. Something to know. I need a thought to push me forward. Something to write that does not feel like drivel. I need a thought.

Do the words not flow through the stream of the music across the mountains and over the fields. What is the thought that produces the feeling of when and why. Dream but a dream that is never fulfilled and work towards nothing that brings you joy. What is a thought. What is a feeling. What is a word. It is hope and love and light and life. When day becomes bright and night becomes beauty. When lights dance across the sky in no particular pattern or manipulated way. They are free to dance in the stars. But what is the moment when everything stops. When the sadness takes over and the lights fade away. When the clouds circle and darken the night and the day.

How is it that the notes dance quickly like sparkles on paper and it feels like I can see flowers flowing out of trumpets. And hearts beating out of violins. Have I been indoctrinated by Disney, or is this simply the spirit of imagination. Peter has seen the wolf and runs for help, but no one comes to his aide. Why not believe in truth and push away the lie.

I say you go, I want to stay, I say you go, I want to stay. Why must I go, Why must I go. The light is growing bright in the horizon. Blood red and full of dread. Why don’t you run. I want to stay.

But death is not the answer. To stay is to die, there is no hope it will change, to stay is to die and that is all that can be said. But I love you and I want to stay.

I say you go

I want to stay.

The horizon begins to fall in a wave as the exploding sun rolls over. The world is taken over by an everlasting day. That is hot and still. The air so humid that it is like breathing water. And it is as the sun's heat absorbs the water into the air, leaving nothing left to nurture. But then this is the end of all and all is lost so why would nurture be a need.

I say you go
I want to stay

Go stay go stay GO

I never said I meant to make any sense.

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Christine Morton -

A mother, a daughter, a magic bean grower,
a hoper, a lover, a dandelion blower.
A dreamer, a wisher, a photograph maker,
a writer, a hoper, a lesser road taker.

© 2016 Christine Morton Redhead Snaps