I realized the reason for my discontent today. My wings have been clipped. That is why some days I feel bright and chipper and other days like today are solemnly gloom. For my wings are an essential part of me. My wings are still there but my feathers have been clipped! I cannot fly for the time being. I am grounded until they are allowed to grow once more. That is the depressing aspect of this all, for my hope and dreams are within my wings and the ability to be able to fly. I do not have the capability to dream. The goodness that comes from optimism for what may be is non-existent for me.
I don't know what will come, and I can't be positive of what will come, because what comes will come and I am here grounded without the hope to fly. My small steps can only take me so far. I had wonderful dreams to travel farther and higher. My wings have been clipped and so have my hopes and dreams. I may be able to grow them again, but until then when I remember my state of being I am saddened for I am grounded without my willing.
4 comments:
Honey, no man is worth bad prose.
I agree!
My writing was not meant to be a prose or any writing of poetic nature, but merely freeform creative expression. Secondly my depression does not stem from disillusion in a man. Sometimes I wish it did for it would mean I have a life, but not this time. Without getting into specifics, my outlook on life right now is just merely blue.
Just what do you think is the definition of "prose"?
You are right, I had thought of prose as writing in verse.
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