I got up prepared for the walk only to hear him tell me it was impossible. I wondered at his blindness. How could anyone think it impossible to walk to the moon? More than my shock at what he said was my shock at his shock! Can you imagine? He was a...
I got up prepared for the walk only to hear him tell me it was impossible. I wondered at his blindness. How could anyone think it impossible to walk to the moon? More than my shock at what he said was my shock at his shock! Can you imagine? He was actually shocked that I had my hiking boots on and my knapsack filled with snacks, water bottles and oxygen tubes for the journey. He will never cease to amaze me!
�Painter of the skies
Sculptor of the clouds
Let me walk your ladder, sanguine,
Neither interfering Quietly, I’ll pass.
Your vigilant hands at work
On the form of yonder jaundiced clouds
The lights for this night
Songs for accompaniment.
Quietly, I’ll pass. This Eastern canopy you nurse
On my walk to the moon and back.
After he told me it was impossible I quickly reached for my knapsack, hung it on my back and got going. I wasn’t even planning on settling there yet, just wanted to take a walk and back an here he was making noise. He forgot it was he who told Orville God would have given humans wings if he wanted them to fly, that it was he who told Marconi waves didn’t have wings to fly across the Atlantic with, and that it was he who told that blessed inventor that erasers weren’t necessary since one could always trust his saliva to do a better job. I come back from my walk and there he still is, afraid of taking a step for fear he will miss and fall, all his energies directed at telling others they will fall too. He is only good for aborting dreams and judging from the number of people seated around him, he has been quite successful. But the world is such a sweetie and this age such a darling that before he can say it cannot be done, someone has already done it!