I never know when or how a song is going to end. It’s something that eludes formula and analysis.
I do know that a song has a way of bending: The end of the beginning bends to the beginning of the end.
I can’t tell you how many times I have sung loss, and how often it was love that was hiding unconsciously in my heart … how many times I thought I was at the end, only to find another beginning.
Ponies nuzzling always make think of the better half. We sit there staring at each and she’ll say “what are you thinking?” … I say “ponies, one black one white” … “Me to!” … All my love poems end with thoughts of her and ponies. D x
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I love this so much. And the photo makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Awesome!
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How lovely of you, thank you!
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Thank you for sharing with us!
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Your description of love and loss bending to meet other reminds me of a mobius strip. Wonderful poem.
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Thank you, LuAnne
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“The end of the beginning bends to the beginning of the end.” I find this in any of my work that’s longer than what I’d consider “Flash fiction.” The story tells itself, guides me and tells the story I needed to tell rather than the one intended.
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Yes!
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Reblogged this on Musings from Mars.
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