Oh, cage of my own better making, like a scholar who knows the best place to put a desk relative to his confinement, and writes against it while within it, I hone my chained inspiration. To have something to escape inspires otherwise unimaginable departure routes! What do I care for my body’s impediments? Anyways, what is a body but a battering ram to free the soul!
In winter, around sunset, is when I tend to get around to it: opening the cage of my hours, trying to coax them towards freedom! When will they learn the subtle art of desperate struggle? Must I always be forced to kick them towards unbounded plains?
Habitual beauty forms our borders, its steel sheathed by familiar responsibilities. When the same impressions stack atop each other day after day, soon enough our senses are in danger of becoming inhabitants of a personal walled city. Dominant routines then begin enforcing, what they claim are, friendly blockades. Eventually, the stranglehold becomes so complete that to be honestly moved by something necessarily means to harbor some sight, sound, or idea that has snuck in!
Novelty, like a warrior class, has a history of sacking such personal walled cities! But with enough openness, focus and sensitivity, we can also arm the familiar! Siege the day, my friends, so that whatever today holds, with a deep breath of feeling, we take it fully in!