The ripples run into the sun
And your smile blends with the clouds
that flutter by me
As I sit on the edge of a dream
What do I see? What do I see?
Why do I write so much when I'm sad, and so little when happy? Am I incapable of describing happiness? Am I afraid to spook it with clumsy words? Or am I too busy being happy, to write?
I saw a Russian movie the other day and this dialog got stuck in my head.
Katia: "I admire how you can always joke... I can't do that when I am sad."
Lena: "Are you ever sad? Aren't you the happy one?"
Katia: "So what, I am sad very often. See, happiness is a state; one moment it's there and the next one it's gone. So when it's there, you always expect it to disappear any moment, and that makes you sad."
Lena: "So... according to you, when there is no happiness, you can laugh all you want?"
Katia: "Well, when you have nothing to lose, why would you be sad?"
Lena: "That's an interesting way to look at it."
I think I feel Katia on this. I am holding on to that fragile emotion, trying not to blink, afraid that when I open my eyes again it won't be there. People notice it. He notices it. He says the clouds are reflected in my eyes, and I can't hide them by looking away. He shines along on the days I shine. What am so I afraid of? Why can't I trust him completely? Why can't I chase away the thought that all happiness is fleeting? I hope it's a matter of time... I hope one day I can run faster than those clouds, leaving them where they belong - in the past.
And here comes the morning sun
I wonder if my dream will really come
As I site on the edge of a dream
That's what I see! That's what I see!
Listening to Minnie Riperton's The Edge of a Dream