i want to spend a rainy day with you

by

It’s that I feel like I’m not worthy of being creative. As though being creative, accessing beauty or truth or peace are these things that are beyond anything I could ever possibly deserve.

After all the suffering I’ve seen, can I say that anyone deserves to have a painless and carefree existence? If the option presents itself to me, can I bring myself to take it?

Form, substance. Meaning, symbol. Light, dark. Up, down. Life. Death.

And this is the battle. This is the situation on the ground here in 2010, and it seems as though nothing but emptiness stretches out beneath. What would my legacy be?

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