Rebel Heart
Waking_Dream
It is not the Game, but he who plays it. Or she, as the case may be.
In the days that run into each other and meld into a barely realized whole, I know that the Game is merely that: A game. An invention of the mind to wear down the harsh edges of the drudgery we call reality.
Then why does it call so stridently to my soul?
But when I step on the pitch, all that matters to me is the Game.
The wind is a song that lifts my heart and soars with it to the clouds, up to a Heaven I can hardly trust exists. Save when I play the Game.
But if there is a Heaven, I've never felt closer to it than when I fly.
I was born to fly, and I don't think I ever feel it as strongly as I do when I am playing the Game. We were born to fly, all of us- these our minds - these minds cannot stay long in their natural confines before they begin to long for the skies, and to claim that which was denied us, to break all bonds that hold us down and soar above the clouds.
I know this in the heart that for one fleeting instant calls itself mine, in letters of fire against my soul.
It is only when I speak of the Game that I talk most like a fool. But that is the way I feel, when I admit to myself that I can feel, and the time when that barrier between heart and mind, feeling and thought falls the fastest is when I am playing the Game.
Freedom is the song my heart sings when I begin to soar. The sadness in my soul falls away like the ground beneath my feet, and I rise to sky, if not on wings, then on something more powerful than mere wings - joy.
Waking_Dream
It is not the Game, but he who plays it. Or she, as the case may be.
In the days that run into each other and meld into a barely realized whole, I know that the Game is merely that: A game. An invention of the mind to wear down the harsh edges of the drudgery we call reality.
Then why does it call so stridently to my soul?
But when I step on the pitch, all that matters to me is the Game.
The wind is a song that lifts my heart and soars with it to the clouds, up to a Heaven I can hardly trust exists. Save when I play the Game.
But if there is a Heaven, I've never felt closer to it than when I fly.
I was born to fly, and I don't think I ever feel it as strongly as I do when I am playing the Game. We were born to fly, all of us- these our minds - these minds cannot stay long in their natural confines before they begin to long for the skies, and to claim that which was denied us, to break all bonds that hold us down and soar above the clouds.
I know this in the heart that for one fleeting instant calls itself mine, in letters of fire against my soul.
It is only when I speak of the Game that I talk most like a fool. But that is the way I feel, when I admit to myself that I can feel, and the time when that barrier between heart and mind, feeling and thought falls the fastest is when I am playing the Game.
Freedom is the song my heart sings when I begin to soar. The sadness in my soul falls away like the ground beneath my feet, and I rise to sky, if not on wings, then on something more powerful than mere wings - joy.