the most beautiful thing: subtext
Under the eyes and behind the throat, the words collect unsaid but for the dart of the eyes and the drift of the smile. They collect. They collect. They collect. They spill over out the eyes or onto the page, typed softly with a smile or a wince, sent South, arriving North. They are sent like worker bees to uncover the source of the silence, to open the flower and dance the path back to the queen’s wishers and hopers. They are sent out on fact-finding missions as much as they are sent out to give the facts. They are invitations to explore more deeply, to wander around in that space under the eyes and just behind the throat. To wander around and splash around and sit in and fall in and see. The beautiful subtext waits even in the sending… to be seen and picked up and cherished. Good thing with you it doesn’t ever need to wait to long.