Fragments of thought and bursts of creativity from the wordsmith, podcaster and journalist, author of the Myke Phoenix Novelettes, Refuse to be Afraid, A Scream of Consciousness, and The Imaginary Revolution.
She ran because she was happy to be free, beyond the fence, beyond the limits.
She ran across the field through the clover, through the tall grass waving as she brushed by, her mouth open in what looked like a delighted smile, happy just to be alive and exploring and seeing what is out there beyond the fence, beyond the limits.
She ran like she did when she was a puppy in this field, a bounce in her step that wasn’t there behind the fence. The enclosed yard did not contain quite enough space for her to unleash her full speed, her full joy, the fullness of her being and potential.
The fence kept her safe, no doubt – from predators and from getting lost in the woods beyond the field. But beyond the fence lay freedom and joy and all the speed she could muster.
There were fewer limits there, and there she could be all the dog she was.
If I were to write a song today,
What would I say?
Thirty, forty, fifty years on
and still dreaming,
still writing wistful words that wander
hither and yon.
Too tired to dream? Never.
Too lazy to follow through?
I don’t know if lazy is the word
as much as scared – frightened
not of my shadow
as of the responsibility to create a thing
that casts a shadow.
For fear of burning bright,
How many are content to sit in the dark
and stay quiet,
in the comfort of uneasy silence.
Perhaps this will be the day that I fly,
This will be the day that I fly …