Shapes

Here is the time and here is the place. What else can we do here except stand and wait? Here, there is no sound, except the sounds of the morning and a stillness that holds us here. We say only the things that cannot be left unsaid, as we wait for the day to begin so we can begin too.



The shape of the day is held in your hand, and the shapes of our lives will form around it. The shape of things becomes the shape of us as we form and flow around the shapes of this world.

There are angles out there in the shape of this world that are too hard, too sharp, for the delicacy of bodies and the frailty of life to flow around. The world has dangerous edges and we know only too well that no-one ever really can escape, otherwise there would be no legends, no tales, of immortality.