Nothing to see here, its just about me, again

“It is good to love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is well done.”

Vincent Van Gogh

I seem to vaguely recall a fool’s errand. How that errand brought me to this peak, I do not know.

It seems that I have out lived all those that would lead me, and all that would follow me…

 

Of all the things, ideas, ideals, (for want of a better word from my limited vocabulary) accomplishments I have pursued, aspired to, in love; only two have stood the test of time. The desire to write and the peace of understanding connection.

As for understanding connection, that requires…just acceptance. George.

George is my ever faithful, ghost companion. George came to me during the days of madness and loneliness of childhood. George rarely speaks, George is just there, and that has the transformative ability to change loneliness, isolation into just being…sometimes alone.

The desire to write. Objectively, I am weak in areas of dialogue, setting, plot, and a clear understanding of character development. aside from that, I’m pretty…mediocre.

I shall confess, in advance, that everything I write will reflect me, somewhere, without that touch of me nothing is genuine…genuine not “right”.

Here’s to aspirations, beginnings, marvelous middles with all its twists and turns, and the endings, sweet or sad, that inevitably come.

 

Author: MW Moore

I am surrounded by books with great, even heroic quotes, grand philosophies and theologies, mysteries and wonderments. I've never met an author of any. Oh what a finer person I would be if I had raised my voice above the pounding of the sea with Cicero, walked with Saul on that road to Damascus and on and on and on. Well, I didn't. But I've met some pretty swell people that had something to say...and many are related to me; they're My Family Jewels.

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