It's Funny

Isn’t it funny how we can put things into our lives - almost translate them - into our own thoughts and our own being. A piece of music heard or something we read.

Isn’t it funny that it can suddenly become so poignant and relevant - that it can fill us with a thought or feeling to a state where we exhausted and brimming with that emotion, with that lesson - the notes sing and the words play and the heart in quandary as what should be familiar turns and in return quips. These things we live with, those seeming inevitabilities we deal with, how they rear their disquieted heads. It’s funny.

The renewed novelty in the ostensibly reconciled memory replayed with an unseen clarity in the inner eye of our darkest mind we see anew. And the need to confront that we thought we clearly knew.

The sigh; the pinch. The pangs of the unknown sorrow or perhaps bliss.

And overt willing a world in that midst of unrequited turmoil. How different the life that was today now might be tomorrow. How different outcomes could have been but perhaps just may be on furrowed brows in the morrow.

It's funny, isn't it?