"did she die?" "...she exploded."

[wakizashuriken]

i love the way artists think. why can't i be one?

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“spin”

the clock blinks 4:44
and i think of the times as a child
during these extraordinary moments
when i would climb on the bed and touch the ceiling
and my wish would come true
(or at least that’s what was supposed to happen)
but i’m outside now
and there’s no springy mattress
only a bed of fallen leaves
i look up at the sky
and it’s obvious that there’s no end to it
if only i could touch the ceiling now
i know i would have my greatest desire fulfilled
but to do so would be to reach the heavens
and is that not what the proud fools of Babel sought?
will i too be struck down for leaping
too high and too eagerly?
like the little girl jumping overenthusiastically
(even though her mother warned her not to-
that the little monkeys jumping on the bed
fell down and broke their heads)
falling down and breaking her leg
i know that my inevitable fall
will shatter more than bones
and leave me with a broken heart
but You pick me up
and untangle my mess of heartstrings
the knot tightening in my stomach
at the thought of my failure
but You gently remind me that i can’t do this
alone and by my own work
so i let go of my obstinate pride and
need for independence
and run to You, as a child to her father
You lift me up above Your head
and spin me in the air
until i am lightheaded with the thrill
of touching the sky
and the exhilaration of flying
with You