We are all inside of our heads looking out. And as we get older looking back. Looking forward becomes and exercise in imagination. Using the colors we have taken in thru our eyes and forming a landscape somewhere between world that beats on our faces and the heart inside us that pushes that landscape into the world through our fingers and voices and tears and blood.
Once upon a time there were two white beings. Born near each other and growing up alike except for one difference. One looked up constantly, at the clouds. And yearned to fly there. Climbing everything at hand to get closer to the clouds and throwing it's self freely into the air to be like them. The other looked down and followed the course of the ground. And followed it to the edge of the world where the ground was frozen, and the air was frozen, and everything all around was cold.
The two were taken into their surroundings and became akin to their surroundings. Taking on the qualities of their surroundings. The sky, cloud wanderer became free and capricious and took to great heights for the joy of the trip. The ice wanderer became stiff and cold and reclusive. Wearing down the ground beneath the weight of the frozen burden it had become.
As great stories are told there would be a great cross-road where the two meet. Where great populations and great fortunes of fate would be decided. And the character of the two would come into play. And as great stories are told there could be a change in the characters of one or both of the two and it would or could influence the reader to look at their own character and reflect on fate and their own worthiness.
This is not a great story however. The two are there waiting on the world and the world goes by. Is it the world that has lost a great story? Or is it two beings that have lost a world each to their own ends?
Once upon a time there were two white beings. Born near each other and growing up alike except for one difference. One looked up constantly, at the clouds. And yearned to fly there. Climbing everything at hand to get closer to the clouds and throwing it's self freely into the air to be like them. The other looked down and followed the course of the ground. And followed it to the edge of the world where the ground was frozen, and the air was frozen, and everything all around was cold.
The two were taken into their surroundings and became akin to their surroundings. Taking on the qualities of their surroundings. The sky, cloud wanderer became free and capricious and took to great heights for the joy of the trip. The ice wanderer became stiff and cold and reclusive. Wearing down the ground beneath the weight of the frozen burden it had become.
As great stories are told there would be a great cross-road where the two meet. Where great populations and great fortunes of fate would be decided. And the character of the two would come into play. And as great stories are told there could be a change in the characters of one or both of the two and it would or could influence the reader to look at their own character and reflect on fate and their own worthiness.
This is not a great story however. The two are there waiting on the world and the world goes by. Is it the world that has lost a great story? Or is it two beings that have lost a world each to their own ends?
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