follow your word-path

Just a few disjointed ideas, but they feel as though they might, before too long, Become Something Interesting. For now they are utterly unrefined and potentially incomprehensible (sometimes the most entertaining things are).

Yes the way out is through, and words can be boots.

The grasp of pen or striking of keys become footsteps. They’re tethered in the smallest visible ways to that well within, and we are surveyors in the deepest spaces.

When you walk through the woods to monitor a plot, there is a tool that fastens to your belt, and drops a string that marks your path. So words, these ink blots (or virtual footpaths) are these traceable lines, and we drop them because we cannot see the whole from the start.

They trace our mire and make a path, they are the guide, the walking stick, the breadcrumb story. “A poem begins with delight and ends with wisdom,” says Mr. Frost. So it is, there is a spark, that conceptual butterfly. Or, rather, it is the actual butterfly who brings us into a heretofore unknown conceptual clearing.

But we have to follow it, we have to pick up our feet and go, through. But our hands can take us there, words can take us there. To the well within that thoughts fly in circles above but writing can penetrate, can skip us out of thought-ruts… and perhaps if we’ve slogged well enough we find that our own well hits a common aquifer.

That aquifer that waters us all, and the words of one can be a map that enables others a momentary deep, replenishing drink. A short cut, a word-path!

But you have to follow, and go through. Write with abandon. Wander. 

Just remember to bring a snack.