Untended Garden of My Thoughts
Dear Manifesto,
Of all the relationships that have come, gone, stayed, grown or shrivelled and turned into prunes, my relationship with you remains the most conflicted. Your untended, comatose state has troubled me for long and despite filing a few apologies, the odd excuse and the random flash of verbosity herein, the guilt lingers. I remember how lovingly I began writing, the hours spent moulding your contours, drafting posts, finding photographs, the frequent visits to steal a greedy look at the visits meter, the curious friendships that you brought me...and then the sudden hush. It is like winter suddenly descended upon you.
It wasn't fair. It still isn't. The flow of words is still curiously hesitant, they won't come to me as readily as they used to. I can't weave those stories as easily as I used to. I miss the joy of spending a good hour turning sentences around in my mind to see if they fit the shape of the thought in my head. I miss the slow, lasting satisfaction of a well written post.
Its time for a change. I'd hate for you to go quiet, dim your lights and fall silent. I'd hate for the words to shrivel like prunes, pucker and rot. I need to write and I will- feed you with words once again, sow more seeds and tend to you, as lovingly as I used to. I promise I will.
It's time for winter to yield to spring. There are so many thoughts, so much to write about, share, so many curious new bypassers to talk with. What better season than now? What better time to share the first sprigs of the new spring?
Me.
Of all the relationships that have come, gone, stayed, grown or shrivelled and turned into prunes, my relationship with you remains the most conflicted. Your untended, comatose state has troubled me for long and despite filing a few apologies, the odd excuse and the random flash of verbosity herein, the guilt lingers. I remember how lovingly I began writing, the hours spent moulding your contours, drafting posts, finding photographs, the frequent visits to steal a greedy look at the visits meter, the curious friendships that you brought me...and then the sudden hush. It is like winter suddenly descended upon you.
It wasn't fair. It still isn't. The flow of words is still curiously hesitant, they won't come to me as readily as they used to. I can't weave those stories as easily as I used to. I miss the joy of spending a good hour turning sentences around in my mind to see if they fit the shape of the thought in my head. I miss the slow, lasting satisfaction of a well written post.
Its time for a change. I'd hate for you to go quiet, dim your lights and fall silent. I'd hate for the words to shrivel like prunes, pucker and rot. I need to write and I will- feed you with words once again, sow more seeds and tend to you, as lovingly as I used to. I promise I will.
It's time for winter to yield to spring. There are so many thoughts, so much to write about, share, so many curious new bypassers to talk with. What better season than now? What better time to share the first sprigs of the new spring?
Me.
This entry was posted
on 17.2.07 at 2:21 PM.
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