It’s a happy madness.
I wish you understood
the clothes on the floor,
the books and papers and pens-
the movement.
I wish you saw how pretty
the movement
is;
the moments when
nothing matters.
I could never trust you with that,
with something
as precious as that;
of course I tried,
only to find
.every.
.time.
you marked it wrong,
told me so
and grabbed me to come along.
But I’m happy
in the madness, the movement
I am happy
in,
on,
my own
October 12, 2009 at 9:09 pm
This, I so massively relate to. I think it was involuntary. Growing up homeschooled, nothing but your own two feet and a forest, maybe a box of legos, or heck, just a box… you find the greatest entertainment in yourself and your own imagination.
Not wanting to go off on a rant about kids these days and lack of creativity and… stuff. But yeah, they’re not getting it. And the relativity of it is that I didn’t get something awesome that existed before me too and we all seem to be taking it down a notch with every new generation. In as much as being dependent on other things for basic contentment.
Shame.