To write about you.
It isn’t the right time yet.
I don’t know you well enough yet.
I need more time to think about you and what you’re saying to us.
On a quick side note, my website is advertising itself with highlighted links that I didn’t program or code.
News to me…
I’m not a coder or a link-maker so looks like Google or a mad genius has taken it upon themselves to help me in this helpful way.
Who would have known that such things were possible and cyberspace had a plan for me that I’m not aware of.
But back to you…
What are you saying to us?
Most likely best to not analyze.
I think it safe to say that you live in a different world.
One filled with few limitations and huge horizons.
I think time is still on our side.
And I feel as if part of me (a big part of me) needs you to come to me in whatever incremental way possible.
We are all climbing our own mountains and seeing our own views in various light and darkness.
Tickle me pink. Two of my favorite colors are light blue (very conservative) and dark green (extremely dark green).
It’s the edge in you that has me wondering the most.
I may say that I’m scared but that would be a lie.
There are so many wonderful people in our lives and sure as Hell I don’t hold them at arms-length much as they say I do.
I’m not holding you at arm’s length.
You won’t let me in.
And I am still to blame for all of this blathering.
What I’m giving you right now is the “Writer’s Belch”, slightly caffeinated and slight sedative (if you know what I mean jellybean).
The thoughts are somewhat disjointed as one of my psychiatrists or clinical psychologists would say. Rest assured though, they’re logical and coherent.
I kid you not.
I respect the diagnoses but scoff at the dehumanizing of it all.
I want to much…
To know you.
To understand you.
Time is still on our side and I’m all ears on my best day.
Now, where were we?
That is question I will not ask because I am not Him and I am not allowed to be part of such a world.
I hope you enjoy because I enjoy so much bringing these words to you if you will read on,
Matthew R. Polkinghorne