lost in translating
My head is full of thoughts waiting to be expressed, to gush out, to burst forth like heavy rain on a parched earth. Many of them dont yet have a shape and form, much like pinhead sized embryos, in the first few weeks after they have been conceived. Some are like dew drops that have been on branches for too long in the cold and have now frozen into little icicles...and will remain frozen until the winter of silence and unbearable heaviness passes.
Sometimes i think my mind is like a sieve, with many of these thoughts escaping through the fine mesh of the sieve... did I want them to... perhaps I did? Perhaps I didnt, but now only the dust remains on the sieve and the thoughts have gone. I feel a lump in my throat, as if I want to say something, but I am lost in translating.
1 comment:
Interesting! Some thoughts are just meant to be thought - not to be dwelt on - much less to the written down. "And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered. For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words may indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly" - Kahlil Gibran.
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