Hello, everyone! I'm Belle and I stopped by this proverbial earth to lie on my back to regard the endless stars with a longing that only the earthbound can ever truly feel. Allow my soul to sprawl among you, to sift through the loam of random thoughts; to vainly roll my tongue on the easy lies I tell myself from the adamantine mintage of unpalatable truths; assaying, both with great trepidation and borrowed courage, the quality of a speculation before, during, and after the fact. In choosing to not merely stand still, I have declared not only for movement but for flux, for change. It doesn’t really matter which direction…oh no, wait, I’m wrong; it does matter where you go, aimless movement is wasteful. Still, some days call for any kind of action, as opposed to void. So, here I am …wondering … wandering….
What might I learn, or teach, when I listen, truly listen, to what befalls as a consequence of movement, a leaf falling to the ground? What insight might I be able to bring to the lightest touch rendered and accepted, to every meeting? What lonesome valleys, what triumphant mountains, and my memories of either, or both, might I take with me to the end of my road? Is it true what they say, that it’s the journey that’s more important than the destination? Is it the words we’re able to say; to utter, to write, that shapes what comes? Is it what we do, what we choose to do? Can one draw the likeness of the future with a careless pen? Can a careless pen grow into an eloquence? Is the Butterfly Effect actually real?
Hey, let me stay for awhile, why don’t you? There’s always something to scream or whisper about … always some place else to be flyin’, eh?