Lemon Meringue Pie

September 22, 2011

Picture Source: Flickr / ceciliasun Picture Reblogged: thouartminenow

She has been hungry, longing to suffer less, to give more, to create and do, to be, to become, and to feel empowered. She has a strange way of looking at life. For she realized that there was a vast uncharted territory for that which has not been discovered or created. Therefore instead of looking to the age old wisdom which drops from their lips like honeycomb, she instead would stare blindly like a deer in the headlights, and turn left or right, away from the dissent. Then she would go about her business. Now this has caused her some distress, for risk does not always mean reward. This was one of her mistakes. She assumed that if she risked, and risked, and risked, for love, for the ideal of love in art and creation as an assignment from God, then the reward would have to come. She did not believe that fail was an actual word to be used in her vocabulary. But fail she did. For one risk was too high. She fell. And in doing so she learned something about risk. You must take into consideration what would happen if you did not succeed, in whatever endeavor in which you are risking it all for. Could you stand it? For if not, then the risk is too high.

But life went on.

Blaring voices, screeching cars, lights from the cop cars turning, a barren room in the dark, her hands over her ears, the pressure building, inside her emotions collide.

But the sun came out, and it all went away. She landed in a new life with new dreams, ones which she hadn’t even considered. Wiping her eyes she could suddenly see again.

Never in a million years did she think that she would be here, in this spot, in this year. She thought she had it all planned, properly. Well not exactly. She knew, she knew that it didn’t all add up to two. But she decided to stop crying over spilled milk, and instead to make a lemon merinque pie out of all of the lemons on the ground.

And so she will get to open her shutters and watch the sun stream through. Her suffering is seemingly over, the worst of it that is. Her clothes had been in tatters, her hair as long as a horse. Now she gets to live again.

The papers are sky high, for they are all calling her. Fill out this and fill out that! It’s as if they noticed that she needed to run and they want to stop her. Because of this, they will make the move much more difficult then it had to be. Going from one errand to the next…This is why she insisted on a few days to rest. Because now it is time to run a race. She is at the starting line. The gun goes off, and she looks down the field as she feels air underneath her feet, as she passes by.