| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 12/17/11 at 02:01 PM A life which we could not live on our own terms but rather is dictated to us down to its last detail is no life at all, but it lacks all wonder and surprise. I am certain that this or any ode would not live lest it lived on its own terms and this one certainly does. Deep down, I know that it is not I which am penning the ode, rather the ode is penning itself and the quill, is only conduit to its flowing and is never quite in my hands, but in its own, to live, to witness the ink flow on its own terms, not mine, no matter how I deem myself a writer, I live independently of my odes, which write themselves, I am only conduit and witness and grateful that they do and that suffices. |
