Points Of Light, sometimes you just don't feel well! Heck yeah, you be feeling all sick and stuff. You get kind of Ginchy even when Christmas is away off - it's your right as a sick person and you exercise it well! Then you think (but at this point it's probably not reasonable), but you think, well, what I wrote on the 17th and 20th of October 2019 -
Yeah, don't feel good. Don't wanna write nothin. Just wanna cuddle and have something beautiful read to me.😟
A few days ago I asked for beauty be read to me along with something else. I asked because I'm not feeling well while knowing beauty can soothe me. Sometimes when words are beautiful it can be as though they tenderly and lovingly caress my spirit. If I'm feeling ill, why wouldn't I request that sort of touch, or even a cuddle if you will, with the presumption it might help me feel better? While I can't make the cuddle request happen, the "something else" I asked for, I can make the beauty part happen. My spirit, though down, can be revived through words simply said, words offered thoughtfully, words said in truth, words allowing for feeling, beams of restorative light, words she said.
Sonnets From The Portuguese Sonnet IV By Elizabeth Barret Browning
Thou hast thy calling to some palace-floor,
Most gracious singer of high poems! where The dancers will break footing, from the care Of watching up thy pregnant lips for more. And dost thou lift this house's latch too poor For hand of thine? and canst thou think and bear To let thy music drop here unaware In folds of golden fullnesss at my door? Look up and see the casement broken in, The bats and owlets builders in the roof! My cricket chirps against thy mandolin. Hush, call no echo up in further proof Of desolation! there's a voice within That weeps . . as thou must sing . . . alone, aloof.
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