B O O K S . Y O U . R E A D

It is interesting, the words chosen to surround the inhabitants I am responsible for. I’m not sure what year I chose them, whether they’ve ever been painted to their psyche, or have meaning beyond bland decor.

“Make time for the quiet moments as God whispers and the world is loud.”
This framed print has no attribution, not even Anonymous, and I’ve reached a point where I question it, and wonder what to make time for if the world is quiet, and God shouts.

“Love is the Music of the Soul”
Another print without attribution, though this one on wood, my favorite substance. Every inhabitant loves music, and is well aware of love, but now I wonder whether I’ve spent enough time explaining how our individual songs relate to the soul.

“Let all that you do be done in love”
With this I can point to Corinthians, but no longer is the statement idealized. It is questioned in relation to sensual pleasures, and the irony of my painting it upon a kitchen wall. What did I hope these inhabitants might gain from those words? Is it possible I placed them there selfishly, lacking confidence in my actions?

I’m not sure if confidence speaks, takes action, or both, because I’ve met upon many an empty promise, but only been kissed once illicitly; a way that felt truer than any kiss I’d received before. My being felt it to be a lesson in truth versus admonition. Sometimes I want to kiss these walls, but my lips meet too tenderly with sources unseen, and observers would believe I was embracing air. Perhaps it’s of no matter, as these unseen metaphoric observers have not felt the wonder of my lips, nor the endless embrace of my heart.