“In art, economy is always beauty.” – Henry James
Verboseness. I hate it—on paper and in life. A single restless voice. Repetitive chatter. The din of a crowded cyber space. White noise of the world that overwhelms you into retreat, again, deeper still inside yourself. It strikes like a migraine severing mind from emotion, conscience from soul, assault from pain. Corrupting sweet human sensitivity until our nerve endings have decayed. Priceless parchment muddled in a spasm of infinite ego—an infernal literary stain. No longer precious. Abundant in self-obsession. We’re creatures clawing at the pristine page, leaving our sent everywhere. Forgetting the wealth of what we hold so loosely, marring it, cheapening it, throwing it away.
Creative writer, blogger, wordsmith, communicator… purchase each syllable on the exchange of artistic value and consider its weight before releasing it with eager fingertips. Let every word pass through a filtered heart pumping blood into provocative messages worth hearing, worth receiving, worth sharing. Cross the crimson river—the chasm between us rages wider by the minute. Still, not so vast that a whisper can’t be heard if offered up in the sinus rhythm of unshakable truth; unsoiled beauty; lavish love; exposing despicable evil. Silence the mocking multitude within you. Send an inspired note from the spirit out to us, through us, washing us, changing us, making us better.
Save the ink. Think.
Bleeding In Black and White 