As we are, idle in time I tend to think of how people find beauty in crowds.
Lost in a sea of people as I coexist with feelings in shades so unfamiliar that I'd rather sleep and walk on streets of my own design. I'll emerge from the house just as the sun retires beyond the hills, cause to me, as the moon begins to rise the scent of spring is stronger and so nostalgic that I quickly forget where I am. Cause I'm free. I see the beauty in little things, things so simple that to attempt to be anything more is foreign. Unrefined yet suspicious but I've heard it all before. "We don't all walk to the same beat, your living in a dream they said." Creating alone is parallel enough to share sides of life with those reluctant to hear, only my ears think while yours listen. I'm so lucky to play with the guys I do. All we have is eachother and time in a life worth living, so embrace it.


Bob Saget is Back, now we can all be kids again.


-Mb

"Be not afraid of growing slowly;

                     be afraid only of standing still"

 

In retrospect, what we have done these last few years is very small. If we inspired or influenced, we seek no favor or regard, for we are still little more than fools in love with an idea. This is not to say we are not proud; at the very least, we are proud of never having stood still.

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http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2006/11/061114-smartdust-.html                                                                                        

As many have noticed and remarked, the "we" used in context here has changed. Starting today, the parts of our sum are different; we can only hope—assured and richly blessed—that you, any and all of you, will enjoy what we continue to make. Through seasons upon seasons of time and test, we have been fortunate enough to have grown daily, planned quietly, learned abundantly, fought viciously, spoken wildly, observed idly, promised vacantly, designed patiently, performed wantonly, confronted primitively, evolved embracingly, wanted deliriously, and waited faithfully. Limber, quick to admire, slow to act, taciturn and lewd and shameless, we dive off new cliffs and build our wings on the way down.         

        "Of all the words of mice and men,

                   the saddest are, 'it might have been'"

These words have not quite found their way to us yet. For us, it still may be. We are ambitioned children. We are awestruck explorers. And, certain and uncommonly hopeful, we are still here.

 

                                    "Alas for those who never sing, 

                                         but die with all their music still in them"

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