Aiming for a creative life

I Am Santo

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Birth or death? The soul is set free regardless, shimmering in the refracted gold edges of a beginning, an end. The most beautiful fear felt walking the dread line, balancing hope on each step when a plummet into life – or out if it – hinges on single moves, perfect decisions. Crisis circus, a cascade of tears and cavalcade of desires, cirrus dreams and circuitous hopes, careless curiosity and cancerous whims. Dying is art of rebirth into new, unknown days. Letting go is for the artist, the lover, the fool and cripple. The brave hold still, the commended fasten hands to wings and soar to lands where tendrils of mist coalesce underfoot as solid ground, and accept the weight underfoot. Faith’s footfalls offer no sound, no sure hold. To step there is an act of belief, accepting evidence of sight, smell, touch, sound, taste. Step without confidence and gravity murders, the fall seizing limbs, skull, flesh, blood and muscle, milking sanguine tears on impact. Better to walk. Better to believe. Best to find life in the eggshell uncracked by need, unspoiled by longing, visible as birth and certain as death. #sky #plane #airplane #dusk #sunset #clouds #flying #flight #writing #writer #poem #poetry #literary_imagery #literary_original (at The Icarus Lesson)

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