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German flag

The German flag at the back of my door is ridiculous, I know. But it serves to hide things that when apparent, are ten times more unreasonable.  The bright red center is a glaring visual that keeps me alert at odd hours of the night. When the lines between living to write and writing to live have virtually disappeared, I need this strip of red to remind me of a burning need to let the paper or keyboard soak out the ramblings.

An alien flag perfectly perpendicular to my workstation, keeps me in touch with the reality that the one I’m in is huge.  If I am lazy enough, I get to keep gifts of ridiculous trinkets like this German flag. Nonetheless, the urge to circle the world pulls stronger with every glance.  The eagle or the crow or whatever that bird is, mocks silently at the amateur who frequently looks up at its red beak and talons. The bird is an expert writer. Its implements swollen from riding on every zephyr that swooshes by.  It has rightfully earned its place on the flag.

My German flag serves me well. It hides from plain sight a treasure trove of unconscionable secrets. It is glaring but not in an uncomfortable way.  Whenever inspiration seems to be scarce, I only have to look at the black bird.  It speaks and coaxes in a fashionably passive-aggressive way.  It silently orders to be relentless with the keyboard.

Life does not have to immediately make sense as it unfolds before me in real time. Misplaced things are often the driving force of precious moments.  I have come to learn to not discount the odd ones out. Ridiculous as having this German flag may seem, in time the “Great Unfolding” will soon put things in perspective.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Do or Die.”