Featured art by Maren Klemp. Click title image to visit her studio.
Listen to Suggested Audio
Massive Attack “Safe From Harm (Instrumental)”
One word—inclusion. All of us wish to be part of something. To bask in the light cast by others aside. To feel as though prose speaks to us directly. That words affect us personally on account of being intended that way.
Each of us desires to feel special. Exclusive. For our eyes only, if only it were. Through the blur of our tears, we confer deepest fears that we are merely overseers of a sea of insincere. Clearly not predestined to investable pursuits. Appears there’s next to nothing left to lose. The irony is, maybe this is true.
One word—inclusion. Love need not be such a great illusion; when construed through eyes delighting in the essence of transfusion. Every single drop of me I bleed onto parchment is open to enlargement in a far greater scheme. Every solitary dream revisited, in kind, is piece of me too sweet to leave behind. Every truth is proof of life. Every muse is true to type. And little of my supernature classifies as humanlike.
One wish—to be a part of something summed up not by parts, but open hearts. To gather broken shards and reconstruct heroic charms. To flourish within both written and spoken art. For love to set off one and every smoke alarm. To feel the burn in others as recovered from the flames. To hide beneath the covers and be lovers once again. To make our lifetimes not appear in vain.
Should I feel searing pain, then I may well refrain from making plain to stake the claim of safe place unto others. Unless the best foot forth be entertained, to alter course and state of resonating thoughts detailed in brave. Unchained of remorse as this is golden fleece to fools. Shame is too acute a weight for those whose frameworks bear the palls of guilt-edged statements made to fit the oversized desire to quit.
One wish—to love like a kid. Be a child upon parchment. Youthful of favour and brave of advancement. Lead the advancement of new model army. The kind that incline through each smile to enhancement. Nothing guarded, tucked away. For everywhere we feel again. Once all five senses tend to play, another five aren’t far behind. Disincline to wasting faith, embrace love and leap in blind. Sense each close encounter as a maquerade, in kind.
One word—inclusive. Sooner that than factor in elusive, not this time, on this fine day. Not since I became a lion brave. Not since redesigning myself, dignified of grace. I shall love freely through rapturous art, conjure sincerely the essence of heart. Dress in a gown of the kindest renown. And include every breath that departs. To see ten thousand masterpieces reinventing artful thesis. Pure love will never see us torn apart.
Richard Charles Stevens
Keeper of The Crimson Quill
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