Thursday, February 26, 2009

Observed today

A perfect, unspoiled dandelion, in full geodesic bloom.

The question I had to ask myself, as a writer: do I blow on it, thereby proving the truth that no perfect thing can last? Or do I allow it to remain, knowing that some fickleness of nature will soon destroy it, beginning again the cycle of nature's creation?

This is a metaphor for my own writing.

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