Chasing
Its what they all chased.
4 poor boys from england, writing sad songs, none about yellow submarines.
A group of young aspiring writers, meeting to bring out the best in each.
The men who talked in the abstract, to talk about ideas more real than anything physical could ever grasp.
The stories He told, simple as something that happened yesterday. They made more sense than any metaphor I could ever craft.
Purpose. No, greater. The wondering look of the dying at the end. The wish of a girl too young to even know her own innocence. The tears that fall on a chessboard when, after many moves, a man isn't sure if he's done right.
It is why we live, and He says it so simply. We make it more complicated. We try to wrap it around ourselves. It is already inescapable. Either we find our way home, or we don't.
4 poor boys from england, writing sad songs, none about yellow submarines.
A group of young aspiring writers, meeting to bring out the best in each.
The men who talked in the abstract, to talk about ideas more real than anything physical could ever grasp.
The stories He told, simple as something that happened yesterday. They made more sense than any metaphor I could ever craft.
Purpose. No, greater. The wondering look of the dying at the end. The wish of a girl too young to even know her own innocence. The tears that fall on a chessboard when, after many moves, a man isn't sure if he's done right.
It is why we live, and He says it so simply. We make it more complicated. We try to wrap it around ourselves. It is already inescapable. Either we find our way home, or we don't.
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