#draft-journal

Politics should be like Zen Buddhism,

it’s better when it’s not there.

An open hand, a closed fist.

We can’t go anywhere without the demons 

of persuasion breathing down our necks.

Politics is like art, sometimes interesting, sometimes crude,

open to multiple interpretations.

How do we combine philosophy and purpose

to better the lives of everyone?

Do we drown in our good intentions

or follow the beat of the sound most comfortable to our ears?

This is an old game.

First thought, best thought.

We are different and same.

New origin stories break out and we are bound by nothing

but our Creativity.

I thought I saw a Poet brought to life.

Her face was warm with the freckled glow of a cosmic undertow.

She was the Earth, brown with chapped lips and thirsty eyes.

It was as if inside every tree was a human and

inside every word a universe of symbols.

This game of making the future is an old game.

I have turned away twice and the woods are thick with twilight.

Still I search.