Yet She Likes Complications. She Wishes She

She Was Forever Tilted Sideways By The Notion That Pain Was Inevitable, Chance Was Cruel, And All Human Ingenuity Should Go Towards The Making Of A Good Cup Of Tea.

Corrigan Told Me Once That Christ Was Quite Easy To Understand. He Went Where He Was Supposed To Go. He Stayed Where He Was Needed. He Took Little Or Nothing Along, A Pair Of Sandals, A Bit Of A Shirt, A Few Odds And Ends To Stave Off The Loneliness. He Never Rejected The World. If He Had Rejected It, He Would Have Been Rejecting Mystery. And If He Rejected Mystery, He Would Have Been Rejecting Faith.

He's At Ease, His Body Sculpted To The Music, His Shoulder Searching The Other Shoulder, His Right Toe Knowing The Left Knee, The Height, The Depth, The Form, The Control, The Twist Of His Wrist, The Bend Of His Elbow, The Tilt Of His Neck, Notes Digging Into Arteries, And He Is In The Air Now, Forcing The Legs Up Beyond Muscular Memory, One Last Press Of The Thighs, An Elongation Of Form, A Loosening Of Human Contour, He Goes Higher And Is Skyheld.

The World Does Not Turn Without Moments Of Grace. Who Cares How Small.

Sometimes We Just Walk Into Something That Is Not For Us At All. We Pretend It Is. We Think We Can Shrug It Off Like A Coat, But It's Not A Coat At All, It's More Like Another Skin. [...] All I Wanted Was To Make My Life Thrilling For A While: To Take The Oridinary Objects Of My Days And Make A Different Argument Out Of Them, No Obligations To My Past.