What would you do if you only lived one day, every one hundred years?
Would you make the most of the those twenty-four hours, or would you grouse that you had no time to live your life?
I'd like to think that I would be happy to be alive for those precious few, knowing that the century around me had no real influence.
Living in a simple, sleepy little township where everyone is content to share one miracle.
To be alive for one day, and to live within that one day, a century full of life.
"I've found that sometimes the things you believe in become more real to you than all the things you can explain away or understand."
Silly, huh?
That words as true as these, come from some script, a screenplay.
All I can say is this,
"That down there, somewhere between the mist and the stars ..."
is my Brigadoon.
GlassPoet © ~2000~
J. A. Stroud a.k.a. GlassPoet.
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