Oh boggity blog, what do I write? What do I tell you? What it worth writing here?
Where are you flowing thoughts of poetry? Deep insights?
Sometimes thoughts flow in my mind but they don't make it out. Often words or memory fail... On the wings of an elusive butterfly they ride on to flit and flutter but not be tamed. or documented for sharing. How many pictures of empty leaves freshly abandoned by a fluttery friend have I taken. How many times have I sat to write only to watch the pixels dance rebelliously from the rhythm of the blinking cursor that reminds me like an alarm clock I have yet to type a single character. Sometimes thoughts can't be caught... or translated. Sometimes I am dry though I scrape the skin of my mind with a sandpaper trying desperately to gather something together. A retreat to another place... somewhere inside. The giving hand just a pile of sand that can't seem to meld itself together.
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