Sander Roscoe Wolff

Come To Me (Lyrics to

The pain inside has died at last
All hope has perished too
And every dream has turned to ash
There’s nothing left to do

I’ve walked alone through worse, I know,
And faced my every fear
Yet somehow as the end draws close
I wish that you were here

I don’t want your comfort, lord,
Forgiveness will not come
I want for you to know me once
Before I’m really gone

Your devils waiting patiently
Their flames are drawing near
And as their talons tear my flesh
I wish that you were here

I wish you stood inside these shoes
And bore this misery
But I refuse to call your name
And you won’t come to me

You made me in your image, lord
Yet you will shed no tear
This mother’s son has earned no love
I wish that you were here

On my recent trip to Washington I took some time to visit the Glass Museum. I’ve always loved glass, and it was thrilling to watch experts work with such a dyamic media. While there, I discovered that a very nice lady was doing a workshop where people were invited to carve images of their choosing into pieces of rubber which would be inked then pressed to paper, much like a woodcut. She suggested the theme of birds and bugs, and so desided to create a bird eating a bug.

Here’s the result:

I wrote to my friend, Rick Lewis, telling him about my blog, saying “Yes, I know its silly, as I have very little to say, but I have a blog. Why? Because I can.”

To which, he responded:

Blogs. Your comment last night got me to thinking about blogs, and what’s right and wrong with them. I can’t say I reached any profound conclusions; only mildly interesting observations. In the heyday of network television news, not so long ago, approximately three major anchors reached 50 million or so viewers or a regular basis. Blogging seems to have turned that equation on its head. I don’t know the numbers, but what if it’s now five million bloggers, each reaching a regular audience of 100 people? Clearly we are no longer describing the same model at all. Meanwhile, network television news as we knew it is vanishing before our eyes; just not fast enough.

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