In the World of Scissors and Glue


Sometimes I wish that I could edit my own life in the same ways as I’d edit a movie or a book.

The little snippets get left on the floor or sent off with the recycling.

Existence is a bit of a collage.  Breath is our glue, heartbeats are mucilage.  The shards of color, of cut paper all seem to vibrate or even to explode.  The fabulous clipping sound is actually nothing but the “snip snip snip” of our days.

Eyes float in space, seeing deep inside of life.

Things are turned inside-out, upside-down and backwards.  The frayed and the afraid are both carefully retangled.

These are not the normal blues.  They’re wildly alive and ferociously awake.

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