Quote of the day...er...week...umm...hey, look, a quote!!

Tibi gratias agimus quod nihil fumas.

It says "...freedom of...", not "...freedom from...".

Nolite te bastardes carburundorum!

"It's amazing to me how many people think that voting to have the government give poor people money is compassion. Helping poor and suffering people is compassion. Voting for our government to use guns to give money to help poor and suffering people is immoral self-righteous bullying laziness. People need to be fed, medicated, educated, clothed, and sheltered, and if we're compassionate we'll help them, but you get no moral credit for forcing other people to do what you think is right. There is great joy in helping people, but no joy in doing it at gunpoint." - Penn Jillette

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Fireflies

Fireflies hang low in the trees, flashing their lonely, hopeful signals into the dusk. Drifting through the gloaming, always seeking that answering flash, the one light that is perfectly synchronized to their rhythm, the call home.

In the not-too-distant past, in a darkened room, a still form was silhouetted against the glow of a computer screen. The flash and flicker of page after page lit his face. Scrolling along, blog after blog devoured, words absorbed, he read and wrote, hours spent seeking.

His own words were calling, weaving through the Blue Nowhere, every letter an electronic pulse flashing along the wires, reaching for the unknown.

There.

Something...

Words that sang out the harmony to his Song.

They circled each other, typing, clicking, pulsing, two tiny lights in the vast and murky otherworld of Online.

They met and found that Reality did nothing to dim the brilliance, did nothing to dull the shine. Parting, meeting again, parting, and finally, finally, closing the distance for good. She welcomed him home.

They are sometimes incomprehensible to those who see them, synchronized, uncanny. They face difficulties, all is not easy, but they face what comes together.

Fireflies hang low in the trees, flashing their lonely, hopeful signals into the dusk. Drifting through the gloaming, always seeking that answering flash, the one light that is perfectly synchronized to their rhythm, the call home.

2 comments:

Cygnus MacLlyr said...

This sounds like a situation I recently encountered in which...

oh. Um... wait.

HermitJim said...

Wonder why this sounds so familiar? Must just be my imagination...or not!

Glad that all is going well! This is a very well said piece, BTW!