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Sometimes

July 25, 2013

Sometimes I wish I could close my eyes and put my hand on your head and then you could see what I see.  You would say you’ve never seen anything like it.  I would say I know, because I do know, and I would once again wish I was a good enough artist to pin it to a canvas.  But even if I could, I think I would feel sad to see it there, like when I see a magnificent butterfly pinned to a display board. It may be beautiful, but the pinning took its life, and without life beauty has little point.

Sometimes I wish I could touch your ears and you could hear what I hear.  You would say what is that? and I would say I don’t know, but isn’t it cool? and you would agree.  Because it is.

Sometimes I wish I could put my hand upon your chest and you would feel how gravity isn’t as sure as the scientists claim and you would understand how it’s possible to be flying on the inside even though your Tevas have never left the floor.

We would laugh and laugh and maybe cry a little too, because when there is no language for a thing, it’s really the best you can do.

 

 

 

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