Wednesday, May 18, 2005

The Dandelion

the dandelion

No. Untie the strings. Withdraw your nets. Try to snare me, and all you will catch is sand, which slides swiftly through your fingers.

I am not here to be caught. And I never meant to catch you.

These wings are unclipped, made restless by the sight of horizons not yet crossed, worlds not yet seen.

You are a kind, sweet, thoughtful sandbag. I am an ascending hot air balloon. I don't want your weight. I'm bailing ballast as quickly as I can. The last thing I want is another sandbag.

I don't want to hurt you. But I don't want to keep you, either. Less still do I want to be kept.

I am a fairy tale, a pipe dream. As beautiful and as constant as a bouquet of dandelions on a windy day.

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4 Comments:

Blogger pushbuttonpincushion said...

(random person): Thanks for posting this; I like it.

12:43 AM  
Blogger pushbuttonpincushion said...

I also like the "dark" ones, but then again, everyone says that at 4am.

2:58 AM  
Blogger lute_of_jubal said...

Thanks. :) Heh - most of the "dark" ones were written around that time, on super intense caffeine highs, so it makes sense.

11:18 AM  
Blogger lute_of_jubal said...

And hey, if you like what I do, spread the word! :)

I'd also recommend checking out some of my photography, if that interests you at all - there's a link for it in the sidebar. :)

11:51 AM  

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