Free Will

Steal this fire. Mutate this pleasure. Untame this healing. Mock this sarcasm. Trick this eternity. Cure this symbol. Sing this justice. Engorge this grace. Analyze this amazement. Sublimate this revolution.

Three,... it's a magic number

Three is a magic number,
Yes it is, it's a magic number.
Somewhere in the ancient, mystic trinity
You get three as a magic number.

The past and the present and the future.
Faith and Hope and Charity,
The heart and the brain and the body
Give you three as a magic number.

It takes three legs to make a tri-pod
Or to make a table stand.
It takes three wheels to make a ve-hicle
Called a tricycle.

Every triangle has three corners,
Every triangle has three sides,
No more, no less.
You don't have to guess.
When it's three you can see
It's a magic number.

and everything collides, of course...

Creative thinking may mean simply the realization that there's no particular virtue in doing things the way they always have been done - Rudolph Flesch (whose name I am assuredly misspelling.

one piece is finished, another starts

and then suddenly, the act is on again....

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

Fool

They bowed gracefully and with far too much flourish than was called for.

"Thespians" said they, in chorus.

"Well, I enjoy a lick of the lilly from time to time myself," said I, "but it's hardly something you want to paint on the side of a wagon."

"Not lesbians" said a girl "thespians. We are actors."

"Oh," said I. "That's different."

"Aye," said one with a big hat. "We've no need of wit - the play's the thing, you see. Not a word passes our lips that hasn't been chewed thrice and spat out by a scribe."

"Unburdened by originality are we" said an actor in a red waistcoat.

"We are mere appendages of the pen, so to speak," said big hat.

"Yeah, you're a bloody appendage all right," said I under my breath. "WELL! Actors then. SMASHING!"

2nd draft

We are one of two kinds.
Those who make the music
And those who dance