The writing of a drama is a difficult thing.
The feeling persists that the dramatic form is the only true way to express my thoughts at the moment, the only way that would be effective.
The problem is the words get jumbled in my head, they will not flow, when I sit down to give the ideas form.
It’s as if the abstractions wish to remain abstractions.
It’s as if they don’t want to be expressed, only internalized.
Is it possible that ideas, some ideas, should never actually be expressed, but kept internal?
Is it possible that ideas, some ideas, are not merely ideas, but are living things which can only live on the plane of ideas?
Is it possible that if these ideas are given form in the physical world, given direct expression, they would die?
Is it possible that ideas such as these are those things which truly direct our lives and should never be expressed directly, but lived, only expressed indirectly by keeping them within ourselves, by coming forth as some ineffable quality that can never be expressed, only seen, but even at that, only seen indirectly?
Is it possible that some ideas are done a great injustice by being expressed?
Is it possible that by expressing some ideas we are caging them, destroying them, somehow?
Is it possible that in our constant search and yearning for expression we are killing the very thing we seek?