Points of Light, should I call myself a writer? I know I'm a man who loves to write. By this, by saying I'm a man who loves to write, I mean I love finding words that tell you a story that'll help you find a place where you can rest in luxurious warmth while you look around at all the light-filled colorful words so that if you choose, you'll also find beauty along with the warmth I give you to enjoy. Every time I sit down to write, my deepest desire is to give you what you just read right there in that last sentence. Life is short, right? In this short life I live, I deserve to have everything I can find when I write, but in finding everything I deserve in a few simple words, I desperately want you to have all of everything I find, I desperately want you to feel my heart, I desperately want you to understand I'm a man full of love. In what I just said, please, please understand none of my love is worth having if I can't share it. That's why I give it away.
Fuga, you should know I'm a writer who's very much self-obsessed. I'm always looking inside myself, I'm always trying my best to know who I am, but maybe that's precisely why I find the words I write. Am I a good guy? Am I a bad guy? Is my soul full of darkness? Is my soul full of light? For that matter, is self-obsession a good thing, and does it get anything accomplished? Does self-obsession make the world a
more beautiful place, does it make life more tolerable for the people the self-obsessed come into contact with? I wrote this during a time of intense self-obsession - Points Of Light, a life lived writes your story. Sharing this story, can bring clarity and light. (writingbeautifullight.com)
But you say wordplay is a sign of intelligence. I can tell you this, I have a good time when I see words go out and play, especially when intelligence is around to make sure they play well together.
It's been said that people can sometimes be separated by time and space and that life is funny that way. Is it fatalism that separates people and if so, does it mean what is has always been something that was meant to be and is something we have no choice but to live with? I find this a sad and unsettling philosophy. If a someone can make another someone soar, why does the fate of time and space separate them? Yeah, I spend too much time searching for the answers to profound questions. Maybe one answer can be found in only what time and space fates to people, I mean, I already wrote this, "Her heart rested, she only allowed all the time she was experiencing to survive in a singular, solitary moment. Within this moment, divine love graced Fuga with calm and peace. It was as though from the very start of Mount Agung, he had always held a yearning question in his heart that only Fuga could answer: "Tell me - when will you be mine? Tell me Quando Quando Quando.
We can share a love divine, please don't make me wait again." Now that the precise time had been realized and Mount Agung's "Quando" question had been answered, Fuga was able to share her calm and peaceful moment with the world. Through Fuga, Mount Agung's long patience to hear the answer to his question would help many creatures experience a heart smile! Finding real beauty is too valuable as to be priceless, and that is wondrously transcendent." Funny how I had thought that was just me trying to say something beautiful when what I really was saying was something very intelligent and yes, profound. But can't we agree that intelligence and profundity also have their preeminent place in all the light, color, and beauty I usually find when my self-obsession helps me find those words, I've been telling you about.
I remember one time when I thought about Terpsichore and I found these words to describe her - "There she was, making epic colors of light—violet, blue, green, yellow, orange, gold, and red—dance, pop, and zip in ways that brought glorious ecstasy to his mind and plunged the deepest depths of his heart." It's something special when a self-obsessed writer finds inspiration. The muses lived in the hearts and minds of some ancient people... yeah, they were creative and attributed what they created to these muses. I love Terpsichore, I know her beauty and I always want her beauty near to my heart as I write and why wouldn't I? Is she one person? Is she one person at a time? I don't know the answer to either of those questions? I am looking to find those words which are found in those answers. I do know this, wherever I find Terpsichore and whomever she is, I find a heart smile, and a heart smile is a very big deal.
Love and Peace Tod w/ one d
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