Peace, Tim, from another stranger; drawn to you by the beacon of your poetic soul. May the poems you have produced be timber for the vessel you sail across the river.
There is a theatre game I play with children. It's a skit. Half the group stands together on one side of a wide blue piece of fabric that is a river.
The other half of the group approaches the river from the other side and, seeing the group across the river, calls out to them, "How do we get to the other side?"
The group replies, "You are on the other side!"
A back and forth argument ensues.
"No, you are!"
"No, you are!"
"No, you are!"
"No, you are!"
Each group decides to help the other group get to the other side by making a human chain of hands to pull them across.
In the end, the "other side" remains an enigma. But this much is clear: "The other side" is where you are always going. Safe passage, Godspeed.
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