14 May 2012

Carved of Weed

When you write with thoughts, often times those written thoughts are poisoned by the logic, the reasoning that we hold. But when you write without a second's thought, guided by pure unconsciousness, your fingers deftly stroking the keyboards, your hands flying across the pages faster than your eyes can look and your brain can see, then you are truly writing...

All people are born with this talent, I believe. That is why, and this is a mere deduction of mine unsupported by any claims, everyone without the exception of anyone can and will burst out when they reach that point at which no amount of patience can hold, that which no power except the Heavens can withstand. The boiling point of the human heart.

In that moment, words flow out at remarkable speeds, pouring layers upon layers of nothingness on all around. In that moment, objects fly, tears cry, lips split, ears and eyes pry. In that moment all logic and thoughts are abandoned. In that moment, we are truly writing...

On paper, on screens, on parchment, on weeds. We are all artists of different trades and skills. And like all good artists, no one understands them, nor the nature of their work. With that note, it's no wonder that: one man can never understand another man.

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