Is it true that, without sadness or loneliness, or some sort of melancholy mood, creativity – the poetic beautiful poignant kind does not strike? Or is it because in sadness and loneliness, we are stunned and pause to recognize the beauty in these emotions? Do sadness and slight loneliness makes us more sensitive to beauty in everything?
Like an albatross. With the wide wing span and it’s solitary wandering over the seas. Is it solitary because of its wide wings and it’s awesome abilities? Is it because the wing span is so wide that the closest it can come to someone – is still too far away?
Or is it because the albatross, so immersed in its gliding, contemplating the open seas and the open skies – doesn’t even see anyone close to it? Does the albatross, when it happens to come on land, feel imprisoned. Does it’s fulfillment lie in the wanderings, glidings and contemplation of wide open spaces? And in its slight loneliness.
Am I saying I want to be an albatross? I fear that I am a pebble in the shore slowly being eroded into sand… who once saw an albatross and is in awe, and deluded itself that it is an albatross, and now chafes that it is not.